She cast a glance over her shoulder as he suddenly fell silent.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him facing her, watching her, arms crossed over his chest. His facial features weren’t that different from human because she suspected that the quirk of his thin lips appeared to be a slight smirk, as if he were amused by her delusion of escaping him.
“Hako ivkiv janata, nixir?” His tone rose at the end, as if he asked a question. His smirk widened when she remained silent, showing the hint of sharp teeth.
“Nata,” he finally said, gesturing to her with his injured hand. He narrowed his eyes when he glanced at it. “Creta,” he muttered, turning his glare back to her. His smirk disappeared as his upper lip curled in what seemed to be disgust.
Sarah lifted her chin and forced her own smile, baring her teeth. They were probably still stained by some of his blood, since she could taste the irony flavor of it on her tongue. “You get what you deserve,” she snapped, pleased that she was able to keep the trembling of fear out of her voice. Her gaze shifted to the necklace of teeth and bones. “At least someone got a chance to bite you back.”
He seemed to note the direction of her gaze and paused his movement towards a leather lump that might have been his pack. His injured hand lifted to the necklace, his fingers stroking the length of it.
With a hard glare at her, he gripped the necklace and yanked it off his neck. He tossed it at her feet.
She jumped backwards at the unexpected motion, her heartbeat pounding. He turned his back on her at that moment, continuing towards his pack as if he’d dismissed her presence. His incoherent muttering started up again as he crouched to dig in his pack.
After staring at him long enough to reassure herself that he wasn’t going to jump on her and rip out her intestines as soon as she lowered her guard, she turned her attention to the macabre trophy lying on the stone.
Making a sound of disgust, she kicked it away from her with her bare foot. “I have no idea why you threw that thing at me, but I don’t want it. It should be buried, along with all those poor people you left to rot in that pit.”
The only response from him was a flick upwards of his head spines, then they settled against his head again. His blue glow had completely receded. Only the orange, circular tattoo at his groin remained softly glowing as he rose back to his feet and turned around to face her again.
He held something in his uninjured hand. As he approached her, he lifted it up as if to present it to her, though his glare was even harder and more intimidating than when he’d flung the necklace at her.
Her gaze flicked from his terrifying reptilian eyes that looked like he wanted to tear her into pieces to the item in his hand.
She caught her breath as the muted light from the round coals of the fire sparkled on the rainbow sheen of mother of pearl. Flat shells, each no larger than a quarter, were sewn in a fish scale pattern onto a length of fabric the color of a tropical ocean.
The creature thrust it towards her as soon as he stood within arm’s length, as if he didn’t want to step any closer.
He might be some kind of alien monster, but she could still detect the resentment coming off of him, as if the last thing he wanted to do was hand her this beautiful thing. Some of his body language came off as very human—especially the rigid tension in his upper body and the grim line of his lips.
“Nata, iv tega drahi harzek.” He pushed the decorated fabric towards her. “Tega!”
Like his body language, she sensed something in his tone that made her certain he wasn’t asking her, but demanding she take the material.
When she hesitated, he snarled and took one step closer. His shadow fell over her, reminding her of exactly how tall the creature was. His head just cleared the ceiling of the cave when he stood to his full height.
“Tega,” he said in a low, menacing growl.
This time, she snatched the material from his hand as soon as he pushed it towards her. It didn’t seem smart to antagonize him when he was close enough to disembowel her and add her bones to his pit.
She clutched the shelled fabric to her chest with one hand, noting the substantial weight of it, her other still holding the fur against her. Slowly, she backed away from him, towards the tunnel, though she realized now that any hope of escape from the creature was futile. For now, he didn’t seem to want to kill her, so it would be smarter to wait for a better opportunity to escape him, rather than just run to her certain death.
“Drahi harzek,” he scowled, lips peeling back as he shifted his glare from her face to the crumpled fabric in her hand. Then he touched his chest. “Jotaha.”
When she stared silently at the spot where the necklace had once hung, where he’d touched his chest, he seemed to grow impatient. “Jo-ta-ha,” he repeated, tapping his chest with each syllable of the alien word.
He waited for a response, his expression growing more dour with each second that passed as his brows lowered over his angry eyes.
He shifted towards her again, and Sarah backed up a few more steps, nearly through the exit of the cave now.
“Jotaha,” she dutifully repeated, suspecting that was what he wanted.
“Jotaha,” he said, tapping his chest again.
Insight told her he was telling her his name, not talking about the hideous necklace. “Jotaha.” She pointed at him with the fabric he’d given her. “You’re Jotaha?”
He cocked his head to one side, his head spines twitching. He studied her for an unnerving moment before dipping his head, once, low enough that his chin nearly touched his chest. “Jotaha.”
Then he pointed at her, but said nothing.
“S-Sarah! I’m Sarah.” If he wanted her name, maybe he didn’t intend to eat her. At the very least, she might be able to convince him not to by humanizing herself. Although, recalling the necklace, she realized that perhaps being a human in his eyes wasn’t a positive.
“Ssarah,” he repeated, adding the extra S in a drawn-out hiss. “Ssarah, drahi.”
Again, she detected what sounded like bitterness in his tone, as he bit off the alien word and his brows lowered even further, until his yellow, slit-pupil eyes were cast fully in the shadow of his spiny, ridged brow.
“Draw he?” She shook her head because he didn’t seem to like that word and she didn’t think she wanted to be associated with something he didn’t like. “No, not draw he. Human.”
Instead of making him less angry looking, her response only seemed to agitate him. His spines rose, brushing the ceiling as he bared his teeth. She yelped when he suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him. He lowered his head until his face was just above her own. The shadows of the cave retreated as his bio-luminescence returned to a blinding degree. It cast macabre shadows over his face, making him look even more alien and terrifying than he already did.
“Ssarah drahi,” he snarled, his breath smelling like the tea he’d forced her to consume earlier. Herbal, with a slightly floral tinge.
“S-sure, Sarah draw he,” she said, fighting to get the words out through her panicked breaths as she struggled in his hard grip.
She couldn’t even shift his hold on her. He was as unmoved by her struggle as a tiger would be with a kitten struggling in its jaws.
He released her, straightening again to his full height. His glow dimmed, but didn’t completely disappear. Instead of stepping away from her, he tapped the fabric in her hand. “Drahi harzek. Iv hachek ver.”