Eighteen injections.
Each one administered by a large industrial-grade hypodermic needle.
I lost track of time, but I was aware of spending the last several days immobile and saturated in pain, dizziness, vomiting, and being soaked in full-body sweats. Even my thermo-bands failed to help level out my internal temperature.
My eyes were sore and raw but at least the hallucinations passed. At one point I believed a giant yellow moth was flapping over the bed and occasionally I laid there watching a tall red-feathered velociraptor stalking the edges of my dark bedroom.
Today was the first day I felt like myself.
I found fresh meat procured by Mourning Crow in the freezer. From the size of the kill, it was evident that my mate had adhered to our hunting guidelines and made sure to only target the weak. It wasn't a surprise. Like us, her people were long accustomed to environmentally conscientious hunting tactics. It was a comfort to know that she was thriving on Sahei.
The large holo-screen in the central room was left active and cluttered with Mourning Crow's luminescent red study materials. It pained me that I couldn't be fully present during her preparations but took solace that her Blood Oath-sworn mentor was E'pire, Oru's lifemate. The female Forged was ruthless and meticulous. Beyond Oru herself, I couldn't think of anyone more suited for extracting the best out of Mourning Crow and putting an offworlder on the proper track for our people's most sacred ritual.
Mostly, I was concerned that Mourning Crow might be triggered into another episode and unknowingly do something permanent. I knew I couldn't monitor her hourly, but I wanted to be strong for her. It felt like a failure not to be at her side, keeping watch on her blind spots.
Truth was, I had no idea how to help her.
If it were within my power, I would absorb all her pain and let her live a life of song and fulfillment.
Eventually, I meandered into my workshop corner.
It was necessary to outfit Mourning Crow with her own thermo-bands to keep her cool in the Sahei's humid weather. I spent the night before my injections, altering a few of my old novice armaments to fit her measurements. But the color was all wrong. After her Dread Rite, my mate would no doubt progress quickly into more appropriate equipment.
I swiveled my stool around to assess our empty domicile.
Mourning Crow stuck close to me every day throughout my recovery, only taking mandatory breaks, like today, to attend her Dread training sessions. My memory was blurry but recalled her wiping my face clean, laying next to me despite my growling protests, and stroking my head to help me sleep.
"This won't do," I grumbled. "I need to prove worthy of a larger domicile as soon as possible."
Mourning Crow would be operating solo before the end of the cycle and this yurt wasn't large enough to accommodate her additional trophies and our future offspring.
I spent the remainder of the day thrumming dutifully while tinkering with an extra thermo-band harness to change the shiny polymer pigment from black to white.
...
"Hey!" Mourning Crow returned shortly after dusk. "You're up!"
She was outfitted in a plain black belt joined to a grey loincloth and had on a stark black thermo-bands wrapped around her bare chest and thighs. She was also sporting several new scrapes on her cheeks and knees. I'd forgotten to fashion her knee pads.
"How goes your training?" I swiveled and perched on the edge of my workshop stool.
"Crazy man!" Mourning Crow's ears bounced in the air. "Those hard-light holos are super detailed!"
YOU ARE READING
The Hunter's Song
Science FictionIn winning, she lost everything. Mourning Crow was kidnapped and forced her to compete in a 1000yr deathmatch. She won, but at the cost of everyone she loved. Now she's free and simply a lonesome musician, traveling the universe, hunting the monster...
