At her repetition of the sounds, the one holding her stiffened, drawing the mug away from her mouth for a moment, as if to give her a chance to speak further now that she was making sounds he understood.
“What does niche-ear mean?”
“Nixir,” he said, saying the word slightly different than she had, adding a hiss somehow that she couldn’t replicate.
This time his voice came from higher above her head, rather than next to her ear, as if he’d straightened behind her. He sat much taller than she did, despite the fact that she was now leaning against him in almost a full sitting position. A heavy fur covered her nudity from the front, but her naked back lay against his chest. Strangely, that chest felt cooler than her own body temperature, almost as if she was feverish.
Before she could speak again, he said, “Iv-olar nixir.”
“Eve ol our niche-ear?” Her head was muddled with her grogginess, and it felt like she was trying to shove aside a mountain of cotton balls just to think straight. Things about her current situation were starting to make her nervous as she struggled to recall how she’d gotten into this position.
She blinked rapidly as if she could clear the blurriness from her vision faster.
“Ris, Ir-olan yan-kanat. Iv-olar nixir.”
Though the words were alien—and that in itself put an unnerving dent in her cotton ball brain haven—she picked up a sound of impatience in the deep voice of the one holding her. It was something about the fact that the drawled hiss from the previous words was bitten short this time.
She’d picked up a word, or at least she thought she did, but simply repeating whatever he said wasn’t helping her understand any better, and it was clear he was growing impatient. Based on the strength in his hold, she didn’t want to try her chances against him. Certainly not in this state. Her arms and legs tingled painfully as if they’d been asleep, reminding her only too clearly about how much damage she’d suffered falling through the rotten manway.
Her thoughts were growing sharper as well. Memories returning, first the manway, the furry bat-cat monster that had nearly killed her, then her desperate exploration deep into the mine.
Then there was the seam.
Her breath came in shallow bursts, her heart thudding in her chest as she clutched the fur covering her in one fist. The final memories came creeping in like assassins. The seven foot monster, the pit of dead bodies, the rifle, the dart.
The mug was at her lips again, pressing, demanding she drink.
“Zarken.” The bitten off sound of that possible word came as the grip of the creature tightened on her jaw.
She was no longer under any illusion about what cradled her against its chest. It had her in its grip, and instead of adding her immediately to its collection of dead bodies, it wanted her to drink first. Perhaps it drugged its victims. Then it would cook her over what must be a small fire that cast enough muted light to show her they were in a cozy cave.
She was probably already dead, because there was no way she would be able to break away from a creature whose casual grip was so strong she couldn’t move her head. Yet she was determined that she wouldn’t go out without a fight.
As she obediently took the next swallow, the grip on her chin loosened. When the mug was pulled away a bit to let her swallow, she tucked her chin and buried her teeth in the clawed hand that had been holding it.
She ground down as hard as possible, sawing her teeth back and forth to cut through the hard scales.
Enraged and pained sounds, like rapid cursing, came from behind her as the creature shoved her away. It flicked its hand out of her grip, tearing some of its scales off in the process. Sarah spat them on the rock in front of her as she rolled away from it, clinging desperately to the fur to cover as much of her nudity as possible.
She scrambled backwards, scraping her naked behind on the stone floor as she stared up at the monster. He had risen to his feet and now glared down at her with cold, reptilian eyes. His bitten hand hung open at his side, red blood welling from the bite mark. His other hand curled into a fist. His crocodile tail lashed behind him. His sharp teeth were fully bared by a snarl as if to show her his bite would be much worse.
A quick glance around to find an escape route revealed that the light in the cave came from what looked like glowing coals within a fire ring. Yet, it suddenly grew a lot brighter inside the cave as the creature’s scales lit up like a blue flame. That glow contrasted sharply with the much softer orange glow of an elaborate circular tattoo covering the scales of its pelvis, where a groin might be on a human male.
Now the creature’s entire body blazed with what appeared to be some kind of bioluminescence, altering the color of the lighting in the cave. Even the quivering spines that stuck out from the top of its head glowed blue.
“Vauteg, nixirs olar creta!” The sounds were spat from his thin lips as he held up his injured hand as if to show her the damage she’d done. His other hand lifted to finger the necklace of human teeth. “Creta,” he snarled, upper lip curling. An angry hiss followed that sound that she didn’t think was a word at all.
“If you think you’re gonna eat me without a fight, you got another think coming, you monster! At least I got the first bite in!” The dreamlike quality that had put her head in a fuzz was now almost completely dissipated, though she still felt groggy and nauseous, as she had when coming out of sedation after getting her tonsils removed as a child.
He studied her for a moment after she spoke, his body still glowing like an underwater sea creature. As she scooted further away from him, he growled, lifting his uninjured hand to smooth the spines on his head, pressing them flat. They popped back up after the first pass of his hand, but as he turned his back on her, the second swipe succeeded in keeping them flattened.
His body glow dimmed dramatically, until his scales barely glimmered with bioluminescence. It was enough to highlight the thickened, ridged scales that covered his massive back.
Sarah had no idea why he’d turned away, but she wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. She’d spotted a tunnel leading out of the cave. She’d take her chances on the run over sitting there waiting for him to kill her.
He was muttering something to himself, she suspected, because she detected a pattern to the sounds and heard the same “niche-ear” word repeated several times as she slowly rose to her feet, careful not to make a sound.
To her relief, he paced away from her, his movements restless as he seemed to hold an argument with himself. His injured hand lifted to his neck. She figured he continued to touch that ghastly trophy necklace, while his other hand reached to smooth his spines again as they bristled.
She spotted her clothes and hiking boots piled up at one side of the cave, but he stood between her and them, so she gave up hope of reclaiming them.
The lack of light would be a problem in making her escape, but it might also make it easier to hide from him. Surely, he couldn’t actually see in complete darkness. She’d had a light on her head before, basically making herself an easy target. Hopefully, she could use touch to find her way to an escape route.
No matter what the obstacles were out there though, she didn’t want to die while lying on the ground, covered only in a fur. She would die on her feet, dammit.
She crept towards the tunnel opening, careful to keep her steps silent. Once there, she turned to face the darkness, still hearing his angry muttering behind her.