“Yes,” Kodran replied. “But too brief. Now I shall carry you into the bedroom and make love to you slowly, bringing you pleasure until the sun rises.”
There was a brief, awkward silence.
“When I can walk again,” he added.
* * * * *
Kodran hated to go out and hunt, but it was tradition. The first morning after the night spent in the cabin, the clan leader had to go out and capture large game for his mate, roast it, and bring it back. He hated to tear himself away from her, though.
Of course, he knew that he had left his beautiful Rosamund exhausted, so she would most likely be very happy to sleep in.
It took him longer than he expected to find a suitable beast, an ianhtrolar with huge tusks that ran at him and tried to gore him. He quickly killed and roasted it.
Suddenly, something came flying out of the tree at him. It was a hard koller-nut, hurled by a Feerba.
“Go, go, go!” The Feerba was extremely agitated, jumping up and down.
He must have encroached on its territory. He didn’t have the same instant rapport with them that Rosamund had.
He crouched down and shifted, and grabbed the ianhtrolar beast in his jaws.
Then he launched himself into the air, his mighty wings beating fast, carrying him back to his love.
But even before he arrived, he sensed that something was wrong.
Feerbas, who were small and physically defenseless against the larger predators that roamed the planet, had evolved psychic abilities to compensate. The full extent of their talent wasn’t yet known, but could they have been trying to warn him somehow?
Had the Feerba really wanted to drive him from its territory, or had it been worried about Rosamund’s safety? He flew faster.
When he landed, he saw that the front door of the cabin had been ripped off and there were signs of a struggle inside.
A table had been overturned, chairs lay on their sides, the rug was wrinkled back.
“Rosamund!” he shouted, rage boiling up inside him.
There was no answer.
His love was gone.
