He glares and gestures at the cave mouth again.
“Right. I was heading in that direction.”
I move inside the cave and plop down near the fire. It takes me a moment before I realize that I’m not…shivering anymore? Either I’m completely numb to the cold in this place or the cootie is doing its magic. I mean, it’s brisk and I could use a nice warm jacket, but it no longer feels as if my feet are going to turn into blocks of ice. I sit down on the furs and pull his boots off, offering them to him again.
He takes them with a narrow-eyed look. Then, he examines them carefully, as if I’ve somehow booby-trapped them in the three seconds that have passed as I removed them from my feet. I snort. “Make me some shoes and I won’t steal yours.” I push a lock of hair out of the way. It’s still clean and shiny and smells good, but it’s also a wavy mess from drying in tangles. I need to braid it and get it out of the way. I try to sit cross-legged and my long leather skirt hinders my legs. Pants, too. I need pants. Pants, shoes and something to pull my hair back. “I don’t suppose there’s any coffee in this joint?” I ask him, knowing very well he can’t answer. “If you plan on keeping me captive, I’m going to be the most demanding, bitch-ass captive you have ever dealt with, so just be ready, barbarian dickhead.”
Raahosh moves into the cave and crouches near the fire, oblivious to my insults. He takes one of his bone knives and drags the point through the coals, stirring up the fire and making it higher, the flames flickering to life. Then, he moves to the back of the cave and grabs a few bricks of what I hope is peat and not poop. He adds them to the fire and stirs it again with his knife. All the while I watch him. I’m trying not to notice that when he walks, he’s got this graceful sort of movement, almost like a dancer. Or that his leggings are made out of some weird leather rigged together as if it’s attached to to a loin cloth, and it delineates some rather interesting equipment that I saw up close and personal yesterday. His leg muscles flex with inhuman beauty as he squats near the fire again, and his tail thumps on the ground, flicking like an annoyed cat. Is he annoyed with me? Or does that mean something else?
“You are kind of like a cat, now that I think about it,” I tell him. “You’ve got a pissy tail, and I bet if I pet you, you purr. Ha. Now if I could only get you to go chase a mousie and leave me alone.”
His eyes narrow at me again.
“I’m talking about food,” I lie, keeping my expression bright. I pantomime eating. “How about some yum yums for my tum tum, Whiskers?”
He grunts and stands, and I swear I’m not creeping on him or those big, rock-hard thighs. I’m not. I’m not. He moves to the far side of the cave again, where he has a small pack of his belongings stored, and pulls out a waterskin. I’ve seen the type before. My dad used to love to go old school when he went hunting, and he had one very similar to this one. I reach out for it.
Raahosh gives it a little shake, letting the water slosh around the bottom. Then, he lifts it toward his mouth.
“You dick!” I say, outraged. “Are you fucking with me?”
Just before he’s about to take a swig, he looks down at me, and a devilish grin crosses his face.
I immediately start to purr, and my pulse begins to pound between my legs. Dammit, cootie, now is not the time.
“You are totally fucking with me,” I grumble, but he hands me the skin and then caresses my cheek, indicating that it’s all mine. I’m not amused by his playful side. I’m not. So not. I’m totally not smiling, either. My lips are jerks because they’re not listening very well, though.
I drink down the water, a little disappointed that it’s not coffee, and save him some because I’m not a jerk. He sips it, then returns to the mouth of the cave, packs the now empty skin with snow and ties it shut, then hangs it off of a small ledge on the wall.
As I watch, he puts his boots on.
“Oooh, are we going hunting?” I say, excited. I straighten my clothing and get to my feet. “I used to help my dad with the hunting. I’m a great shot with a bow. Of course, I don’t have a bow right now but I’ve got good aim. If you can lead me to some wood, I can probably make one. I made one in shop class in high school you know.”
He says nothing, simply pulls on one boot, tightens the laces right under the knee so his entire lower leg is covered, and then repeats the motion. He grabs his spear, and then without a look back to me, heads outside.
I gape. That dick. He just totally ignored me and went hunting without me. Furious, I storm after him, barefoot….for about three feet. Then I give up because even the cootie can’t keep my toes warm. I shiver and head back into the cave, irritated with my captor.