The more they made love, the more he craved that softening.
The Wanderer tried to enfold her in tenderness, but the girl always pushed him away.
He had never known a lover like her.
She had the delicate flesh of a woman and the hard drive of a man, a lust equal to his. He saw it in the hunger blazing in her eyes every time she reached for him, and his heart beat violence inside his chest.
The Wanderer lost count of the days that passed, their carnality both bliss and torment.
He yearned for the girl to melt in his arms just once. But after each shudder that claimed her body, she grimaced like one in pain, moaning and turning her face away.
“Are you all right?” he would ask.
But the girl never answered.
Her gaze was primal before she fell upon him again, ensnaring the Wanderer in a delirium of coupling that left him exhausted and exhilarated. He fell into near unconsciousness while making love to her. His peak crested into his dreams and blurred his reality when he woke up joined to her again, their bodies churning in a rhythm that left them breathless.
Eventually, they had no choice but to stop.
The girl collapsed in his arms, too spent to resist and resting on top of him. The girl was soft in his arms, the closest to surrender he would ever get from her.
His pulse slowed and the Wanderer fell into a doze. The slumber was a relief until the bite of her teeth woke him up. He saw the girl gnawing on him, her thick teeth piercing his flesh where she sucked below his left nipple.
“Stop it!” he yelled, jerking away. “That hurts!”
The Wanderer was shocked at the blood dripping from the wound, his skin mottling around it. When he looked at the girl, his heart started pounding hard against his ribs.
The ferocious longing in her eyes stirred up tentacles of fear.
“What was that about?” he whispered.
She groaned, that muscle twitching in her jaw. The girl reached for her naked throat, her fingers groping for nothing. Then her gaze turned to ice and she started to laugh.
He heard the edge of hysteria in the sound, and wondered if this was the start of a fit. But the girl heaved for air until she stopped, and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth.
“You are one lucky fool, Wanderer,” she said. “You’re the luckiest fool I’ve ever seen.”
She reached for him again and the madness of coupling continued.
Finally, the Wanderer fell off his last peak to soar into the realm of dreamlessness.
How long he stayed there, he didn’t know.
But he knew the girl was gone before he opened his eyes.
The soreness of his flesh permeated his bones and he ached.
Her absence was as acute as her presence had been.
He fought to stay in the limbo between sleep and waking, but the crack of burning wood and the smell of smoke pulled him awake. He almost collapsed when he sat up, his hunger making him dizzy. The scent of savory was a relief, a hint of food made ready.
The girl must have gotten up early to prepare the meal for them.
The Wanderer came outside his tent to an explosion of color.
He was shocked to find the autumn season reaching its peak. The trees had been mostly golden when last he remembered, but the clearing seemed on fire with the orange and red leaves glowing from the evening sun.
He was spellbound for a moment before he saw the girl had left.
Her space in the camp was desolate without her things to fill it up. The only trace of her was the iron mesh resting over the pit. On top was his skillet filled with the meat, herbs, and mushrooms she had cooked for him. The fire was nearly dead, the embers spitting their last flares.
Next to the pit, she’d staked a pole where the carcasses of two squirrels dangled. They were skinned from their necks to their hind feet, the meat of their bodies still fresh, their eyes filmy and unseeing.
Too weak to forage, the Wanderer couldn’t ignore the meal she prepared for him. But he tasted nothing as he ate, knowing the emptiness would consume him later.
