Unnatural Instinct: Amazon

23.

'We need to prepare,' the elder speaks. 'They are coming.'

The women who are gathered around you murmur in dismay. As for yourself, you're not surprised but the certainty of it still stabs you in the chest like a knife.

'War is upon us. We must plan,' continues the fat elder, raising her eyes to you and your sisters. 'Time is not in our favour.' She leans over to scrape her stick through the soil. 'Our scouts tell us the Northerners' major force has reached the outskirts of our territory. They will be upon us within five days. Maybe less—they are moving fast.'

The murmurs of dismay change to murmurs of fear. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

'That will hardly give us time to pack up the camp and get the men and children safely away,' speaks one of your warrior sisters. She has three children, one of whom is still on the breast. Even now, her nipples are sticky with milk.

You can't help but wonder what it must be like to have that burden. To have that fear. Then you realise—you kind of do.

Christopher.

If your enemy reaches the camp, if you all can't pack up in time—the things they'll do to him. The things they'll do to all the men, and the children. If he thinks it's hard here, it'll be much worse with the Northerners. Rumour has it that they treat their men like animals. You turn your head with a wince at the thought of what they might do to Christopher.

'Safely away?' another sister scoffs. 'Not only do they move at great speed but they outnumber us almost two to one. There is no safely away.'

'We have allies,' you remind them all.

The blind elder looks at you, her mouth twisted. 'We've already sent out messengers to their camps. We will hear their answers in a few days.'

You raise your eyebrows. 'But by then it'll be too late. They won't get to us in time.'

Your sisters murmur more loudly.

The bald woman nods. 'And that's only if they'll help us. There is no certainty. They fear the Northerners.'

'All we can do is prepare ourselves—and very soon. We will stay and reinforce our defences while the men and children leave. They will have to travel light as they head as fast as they're able to the mountains.'

You suck in a breath through gritted teeth. 'The mountains are too far.'

'We will have to hold them off with everything we've got,' the blind elder agrees.

A hush descends. Again, you can feel that prickling at the back of your neck. A memory of your lost love suddenly springs to mind. He hadn't been murdered by the Northerners but that doesn't make any difference. He was a casualty of war.

Just like Christopher may yet prove to be. Will likely prove to be. Your heart clenches in your chest; you've only just met. To lose another love so soon ...

This is why you should never follow your heart, speaks a solemn voice.

'We will not survive,' someone dares to murmur.

'We must try. We must fight,' you respond.

'No more talk. No more despair,' the bald elder speaks. 'We know the routine. We've done this before. Let's get moving while the sun is still high.'

Slowly, the group disperses, grim-faced and quiet.

You feel strange. Everything seems so surreal. You always feel odd before an impending battle, but this feels particularly peculiar. Death is approaching and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You feel numb. Your mind is reeling with all the things you have to make ready. Thoughts of the days ahead make you feel sick. They tie a knot in your stomach.

Then you think of Christopher, and the intensity of your feelings surprises you. How can you have fallen for a man so fast and so hard? A stranger, and one so different. What is it about him that makes your heart flutter and your stomach squirm?

Why is he so special?

You have to find him. Even as you walk through the camp, you know you should be thinking more of your tribe. As one of its strongest fighters, you should be leading your sisters. You should be directing things and making things happen with utmost urgency.

You should be thinking with your head, not your heart.

'Where is Christopher?' you ask the men sitting by the men's hut.

They merely shake their heads in response. Your heart is pounding as you look around the camp. There's only so much time you have left. Every minute is precious. Then you see him. He's walking out of the trees alongside Shereen. Surprisingly, they're both smiling.

You don't have time to think why as you approach them. Shereen sees you first. He touches Christopher's arm and nods at you. Your eyes meet. Christopher's face brightens; his smile broadens. You feel it deep in your chest.

'Christopher.' The choke in your voice startles you.

He frowns. He doesn't have a chance to ask what's wrong before you grab his face and kiss him deeply. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment as he wraps his arms around your waist. Goddess, he tastes so damn good!

You pull back, still holding his beautiful face. His eyes are glittering. His long dark hair tumbles down his shoulders. His skin is so soft. How could the Goddess make something so utterly perfect?

Vaguely, you realise Shereen is leaving.

'Shereen,' you call. He turns back with a start. Releasing Christopher, you walk over and take his wrist. He looks at you in surprise. 'War is coming. Get yourself packed up and ready to go. We leave today.'

His eyes widen. You can see the questions in his eyes but he's smart enough not to ask questions. He glances over at Christopher, then rushes away.

'What do you mean?' Christopher says.

Returning to him, you take his hand, then touch his cheek. 'It is what I mean it is. The Northerners are coming and they're going to overwhelm us.'

'The Northerners?' He falls silent, his eyes darting about as he thinks. He frowns as he looks up at you. 'So ... what's going to happen?'

'You're going to leave for safety, along with the rest of the men and children.'

His eyes darken. He steps back, folding his arms. 'I'm not going to leave like a coward. And I'm not going to leave you.'

He's so adamant, so stubborn, that it makes your heart lurch.

'You must. But we can talk about that later. Just let me ...' You take a breath. 'Just let us enjoy the short time we have left together.'

He doesn't respond, and all you can do is hold your breath as he glares at you. It's hard not to miss the anger in his eyes, the frustration. You haven't touched each other since that day with Grippla. Will he be willing? Or is it too soon? The possibility that you might miss this opportunity tugs at a muscle deep in your chest.

Come on. Come on.

He looks away and you feel yourself deflate. So be it.

You turn and are about to walk away when you feel a firm grip around your wrist. The next thing you know, he's wrapped his arms around your waist and is kissing you ferociously.