Caesaria

VI

Axel sat before the sputtering fire, the Georgian woman at his feet. His worn blade lay across his knees, in the flickering light. The Georgian man rounded the cave corner, steps lithe, silent. As Axel had expected. Axel glanced at him over the unconscious woman.  Upon seeing him, the Georgian pulled a gun -- a thing Axel also counted on -- but held it to the side. He would not risk hitting his kin. The tribal was not  ignorant to the tactic, for his eyes grew venomous.

"I take it you're here for her."

The Georgian clenched the hilt of his blade. The sides of his head were shaved, a sleek brown ponytail snaking down his back. His olive skin was tattooed with detailed black designs, much like the woman's. His were more extensive than hers, starting at his cheekbones and snaking back around his scalp, disappearing under his clothes. His eyes were shadowy, rimmed with black paint.

"Get away from her," the Georgian hissed. Axel supposed he wasn't as curious about their shared language as his woman.

They were well matched in size and strength, but Axel had no desire for violence. One man, he could handle. Certainly. But he did not know the land. And so Axel, with a clang that filled the cave, tossed his blade at the Georgian's feet.

The tribal kicked it behind him. The blade disappeared into the dark, grinding against the stone floor. His eyes never left Axel, like a lion eager for the kill. But the act had given the tribal a burst of confidence; he lunged at Axel, leaping over the woman and forcing him against the cave wall.

The tribal had his blade ready to strike, and it was dumb luck that Axel caught his arm. He fought against the man's great strength. Both men gave no ground.

"I mean you no harm," Axel hissed.

The tribal kicked him in the crotch, bringing him to his knees. A slight groan escaped Axel, but all he could do was keel over, face red.

"Don't move. Don't speak; if you even breathe loud enough, I will slit your throat," the tribal growled.

The Georgian sank by the woman's side. He held her, gently prodding, softly speaking. He lay a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling up the blanket to her neck. But then, paused. He peeled the blanket back ever so slightly, just enough to realize her armour was gone. 

"If you fucking DARED touch her  --" he roared.

Axel was still reeling, and he could scarcely suck in a breath. The urge to both puke and shit almost kept him quiet. "I don't rape," he coughed, words mere wheezes.

The Georgian looked as if he was about to give him another beating, but that was when the woman groaned. The tribal's icy gaze quickly melted away to pure concern, voice mellowing. "Lucy. Lucy, I'm here," the Georgian comforted her. She made a little groan, barely audible.

Axel managed to make it to his knees, but he still slouched over himself. He'd had worse, he kept reminding himself. "I had to strip her. Lucy. Is that what you call her? Her clothes were drenched and she was frozen. I needed to check for injuries. I left her shirt. Modesty and all that," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"You expect me to trust you?"

He gave a breath of a laugh, despite the pain shooting through him. "No. You'd be a fool if you did. But I expect you to at least use your eyes. Look at her."

The tribal's lips tightened, eyes flashing between Axel and the woman he called Lucy. "What kind of injuries?" His eyes finally rested upon the woman. He continued trying to rouse her, murmur to her.

"I wouldn't move her," he warned. "Broken left arm. Hence the makeshift sling. Concussion. Broken rib. Maybe a few. It's not good, but she survived the night. I'm fairly certain she'll recover."

The man gave no response, at least not for sometime. The silence between them at least gave Axel a few moments to further get his bearings.

"How do you know?" he finally said. Lucy's eyes were closed, but darting about underneath the lids. Dreaming. Perhaps she could hear them, in some far off plane of existence.

Axel shrugged. "I've picked up a few things in my travels. Pays to know these things."

"Things like our tongue?" he sneered. "What are you, Outlander?"

Honest lies.

"A bounty hunter. I've been around, and I've learned many things from many people, including your tongue from a man with a Georgian mother, down in a place called Desmo. Loon clan, I believe."

The Georgian's painted eyes grew even darker. "You make that sound like it should reassure me."

Axel shook his head. "That shouldn't. But my saving your woman should."

The tribal sneered. "She's not my woman."

Axel shrugged. "Semantics."

Whether the tribal understood the term or not, it didn't matter. The bitter look never left his face, nor did it soften. "Why did you save her?"

He exhaled slowly, trying to shelve the brunt of his pain. "I remembered her from our little skirmish. I found her caught on a log, barely alive. She's strong. Stronger than most, considering she plummeted down a fucking waterfall. Nobody that stubborn should die after surviving that. So, I did my best to patch her up, and left a proper trail for you to follow back here."

The Georgian's eyes fell on the damp leather sachets by the fire, and all their neatly laid-out contents. The salves, the bannock, the dried preserves -- untouched, in so far as consumption. Only they'd been turned to mush in the water.

"I only examined her things," Axel promised. "You'll find everything's there."

The tribal scoffed. "You saved her because you respect her?"

He nodded once, recalling the pangs of pity he'd felt upon seeing her. Grip weakening, eyes dimming. Her soul, bright in fiery in their battle, had then been seeping away when he'd found her. But he did not deign to mention it.

The Georgian smiled, so bitterly, so caustically. "I don't believe you," he finished, before walking towards the darkening mouth of the cave. Dusk was settling in.

Axel watched. Three loud blares of what could only be a horn rumbled outside, overflowing the bowl of the canyon. Then, the Georgian returned.

He crouched before Axel, head cocked, eyes searching. He held the revolver in his hand. Axel met his gaze unblinkingly.

"Outsiders don't last long in our lands," he said. "You will be no different."