Unnatural Instinct: Amazon

19.

The both of you sit in silence for a long time. You shifted aside to give him some space on the rock beside you. You like him being close, you like the warmth of his thigh pressed up against yours, the touch of his shoulder, but you can't meet his eye.

As much as you try to argue with yourself otherwise, you did this to him. You put him in this position. If you hadn't done what you did, he wouldn't have fled the camp in the first place. Away from safety. Away from your protection. What kind of woman are you? You're supposed to protect him. Just like you're supposed to protect all men. It is your duty—and you failed.

You look over to Grippla and the shame you feel for you and all the women in your village compounds. What have you all been doing? This isn't right. This isn't who you are.

Finally, you gather the courage to turn to him. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, for what Grippla did to you. For what we all did to you.'

It's hard to look at his bruised and swollen face; it's much harder still to meet his hazel gaze. But you force yourself. If you want to be a better woman, you have to be uncomfortable. You have to do things you wouldn't normally do.

He rests his hand on your leg with a nod, then turns towards Grippla. It seems he's having trouble meeting your eye too.

'How did you do it?' you ask. 'How did you beat her?'

'We men have many hidden abilities.' There's a smile in his voice.

'I would have liked to have seen the look on her face when she realised what happened.'

He doesn't respond.

You look at him. He's turned his face to his lap. His long, matted hair shields his expression and what he might be thinking. But you don't need to see to know. He's a man and soft-hearted.

'It's not supposed to be this way,' he says. 'I'm not a killer.'

You can hear the tears in his voice. You don't know what to do. Should you comfort him? Does he want you to comfort him? How do you comfort him? What does a man want? They're all so complicated. Always so difficult to understand.

But you have to do something.

You're about to reach out when he suddenly stands and races over to the trees. There, he bends over and retches. He retches again before actively vomiting. He looks so vulnerable. He looks so hurt. This time you don't think; you get up and join him, gently brushing his hair away from his face.

'Thank you,' he says as he spits.

'It's always hard the first time,' you say. 'That first kill. No matter what; it's always hard.'

'Were you sick?'

You shake your head. 'But that doesn't mean I didn't want to be. We women aren't allowed to show our emotions. It's weak.'

'I'm not weak!' His hand trembles as he wipes his mouth.

'I'm sorry,' you say quickly, stepping back. 'That's not what I meant.'

He sighs as he braces his hands up against the tree ahead. He spits between his outstretched arms. 'I know.' He takes several deep breaths. 'What's going to happen now?'

You look over at Grippla. 'I don't know.'

The first thing you do once he's washed his face and settled again is take off your pants.

Eyes widening, he takes a wary step back.

'Have no fear,' you say. 'That's not what I want.' You hand them over. 'Take them.'

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't refuse and quickly dresses himself. Now that he's covered, he seems to relax. He looks down at himself. The pants are a bit big but they manage to cling loosely to his narrow hips without falling down.

'You know, back in my tribe, the men wear the pants and it's the women who wear the skirts,' he says.

You frown as you sit naked on the rock. You gaze up at him, gripping your knees as you shake your head. 'I think it's time you tell me the truth.'

Lines crease his mouth.

'Who are you, really? Don't bother lying because I'll know.'

He gives a grim smile. 'I've always been a bad liar anyway.'

He sits down next to you, clasping his hands between his knees as he tells you everything. He explains that he's an interplanetary researcher. He speaks of spaceships and technology and of a civilisation without religion or war. It's all so startling, so amazing, so impossible, that he must be lying. And yet, there is nothing in his demeanour which suggests he is. Whether or not this is all true, he believes it so.

'I didn't lie when I told you that men were dominant and women submissive,' he continues. 'Actually, that's not quite true. It used to be like that. Now, we're pretty much equal. Well,' he shifts awkwardly, 'I used to think so. Now, after all I've experienced in the last couple of days, after experiencing things I never really thought were issues—I'm not so sure. Things still need to ... progress further.'

'Extraordinary,' you say, pressing your fingers to your lips. 'So, you're saying that they're smaller than you? Than even you?'

He laughs. It makes you smile. It's the first time you've heard him laugh and it sends a surprising tingle down your spine. Even amid his injuries, his face lights up.

'Yes, it's true,' he says. 'Your planet is much warmer than ours. All your creatures: the plants, the animals, the people ...' He looks you up and down sidelong. 'You're all much bigger.'

You shake your head. 'I just can't believe it. It doesn't make sense. How is it that things can turn out so differently if we're so similar as you say we are?'

He presses his lips together, revealing the furrows in his brow and the dimples in his cheeks. Cute. 'A good question. We don't know. Even after all the years researching you—we still don't know. And it's very likely we'll never discover why.'

You fall silent as you stare at Grippla's body. Her jaw is hanging open. A rodent is peeking its head out from the bushes, its nose to the air. You'll have to get her body back to camp before the animals get to it. No matter what she's done, she's still a part of your tribe and deserves proper burial.

'So, if this is all true, what does that mean for you?' You look at him hesitantly.

He meets your gaze. 'It means I'll have to go back home at some point.'

You try to hide your disappointment but just like any intuitive man he seems to know exactly what you're thinking. He rests his hand on your thigh.

You rest your hand on top of his.