SURVIVIAL OF THE FITTEST
By Susan Zell
Disclaimers: See Chapter One
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Human Nature"
A falling rock beside Roxton was the only indication that something was above them. Both rifles swung up, albeit Roxton's a bit slower. It was Veronica descending the same way she had departed.
"Where have you been?" chided Malone, his voice laced with obvious relief. "What took you so long?"
"Easy, Malone," soothed Roxton as he gladly let the rifle drop. He was feeling fairly miserable. It was good that they were all together again. He had been worried that if something had happened Malone would have insisted on going out after her. Which meant of course that he would have to go after both of them and he was in no shape to do that.
"Did you find what you were after?" he asked her as she alighted beside him. She was grimy and tired but her brilliant smile was full of satisfaction. There were also some strange welts on her arms. In fact there were a few spotted all over her.
"Of course." From her pack she pulled another leather satchel.
Malone was crouched beside her and he brushed a hand against one of the strange welts. "They look like...beestings"
"Honey," she announced as she opened the dripping satchel.
"Honey?" queried Roxton. All this for honey? "I'm not that fond of honey," he pointed out. "Not after that whole big bee incident a few months back."
That brought a small chuckle from her lips. "It's not to eat. Well, some of it can be for later. It's good energy food. But for right now--" Her hand dipped into the honey and then came out soaked. She spread it over Roxton's wound.
"Are you mad?" shouted Malone. Roxton sat up and winced as the oozing golden substance entered the gashes.
Roxton panted through the pain and stayed Malone's hand from interfering. He nodded at Veronica. "Smart girl."
Malone looked confused. "We just got it clean."
"This will keep it clean," Veronica insisted. "The Horotu use it all the time."
"The Horotu also sleep on the dirt and sometimes wear mud in their hair," Malone pointed out. "Hygiene isn't that high on their list."
"I'll tell them you pointed that out."
"That's not what I meant."
Roxton butted in. "Honey stops infection, Malone. It's been used in the treatment of wounds for hundreds of years. I should have remembered that."
"You can't think of everything," Veronica said quietly. "Once in a while you have to rely on others."
Malone stood dumbfounded as he watched Veronica smear more of the golden goo onto Roxton. "What about stitching it up?"
"We'll still do it," Veronica told him. "But the sugar in the honey suppresses infection. It will also act as a barrier so no more dirt can get in." Her head bowed, she continued to treat the wound as she educated Malone using her father's words. "There's actually hydrogen peroxide in the honey which is made by the action of an enzyme that the bees add to the nectar. My father discovered this through his botany."
"That's amazing," Malone said softly. He shook his head in wonder.
"You learn ... a new thing ... every day ... in this place, Neddy boy." Roxton huffed through Veronica's ministrations.
The reporter offered a cockeyed smile to the bedraggled hunter. "It seems that way." And if it wasn't about plants and animals, then it was about people in general. Malone was realizing that he knew even less about the latter. People weren't always the way one read about in books. The complexities of human nature couldn't even be scratched by words on paper. It would take volumes to cover it all. He had a lot to learn.
Veronica finally cleaned her hands as best she could and then readied for the next stage. Malone winced as she began working a needle and thread together for the stitching that was to come.
Roxton patted Malone on the shoulder. "Go keep watch."
The younger man hesitated, not wanting to leave Roxton's side during a most difficult trial, but he understood the logic of it. He nodded and rose, and in truth, was secretly relieved. Stitching always made him queasy.
He cast his gaze back upon the dark veil that surrounded them; his attention became half tuned to the suffering of his friend behind him and the ominous sounds of the plateau around them. He swore he could hear the big cats' breathing out in the night. He could feel them out there, waiting and watching. How their stomachs must ache at the thought that wounded prey was so close in their grasp but outsmarting them at every turn. Okay, it wasn't all intelligence that got the explorers this far. It was sheer luck and the big guns they carried.
Guns that were steadily running out of ammunition. Would they make it all the way back to the camp and eventually the treehouse on the limited supply they had? He doubted it. How many did Roxton say was in a pride? Thirty? They were going to cut it close.
Malone couldn't help but think how Veronica would have survived that encounter without Roxton or himself with her. After all, she only carried around a small knife.
Most likely she wouldn't have gotten herself into that situation. She only ate fruits and vegetables that were easily found close to the treehouse. The only reason she accompanied them on their hunting excursions was out of the graciousness of her heart because she knew the rest of the treehouse wanted fresh meat. He sighed dejectedly. She has given up so much of her lifestyle already to accommodate them and here he was trying to make her give up the last remnants of what she held dear, her parents, her home. What a terrific idiot he was.
He glanced back at her. She was finished with the stitching and was proceeding to wrap a clean cloth about Roxton's leg. The man was pale and exhausted, eyes closed. Would he be able to move tomorrow? Knowing Roxton, Malone had no doubt he would try.
Veronica caught him looking at them and she sat back and smiled at him, nodding that everything was okay. Though he knew it was a ridiculous lie, he found himself comforted by it anyway. In the firelight, her blonde hair glistened with red highlights and her eyes flashed with sparks and dancing flames. He turned away embarrassed; he was sure his affection showed clearly in his eyes like a lovesick calf. Heat spread over his cheeks though he was too far from the fire to use it as an excuse.
Veronica shook his head at Malone's odd behavior and went about cleaning up. One minute he was sweet and nice and the next he was distant and impractical. She glanced over to see Roxton watching her also through tired eyes.
He gestured to her injuries. "You have anything in your magic bag to take care of those bee stings?"
"They'll be fine. I pulled out the stingers. Luckily, I don't get any bad reactions from them. I stumbled into a nest of them when I ten. Screamed loud enough to make my parents think hordes of apemen were swarming the treehouse." A genuine smile of sweet memory crossed her features. "My father came rushing out and got caught up the same near panic. He hates bees."
"Odd thing for a botanist."
"Isn't it though?" She laughed, causing Malone to eye them curiously, but the man quickly turned away as if uncomfortable to be caught watching her again. Blowing out a sudden heavy sigh, she sat back and crossed her arms over her knees, returning to the pleasant cascade of memories. "He used to make me shake off the bees so he could pick the flowers he needed."
"So who saved you from the swarm?"
Laughing, she replied, "I saved both of us. I couldn't tell who had the most beestings, but I bet it was my father."
Roxton enjoyed seeing the delight in her face at the recollections. He understood not wanting to let go of them especially if there was even a chance she could have more. It was no wonder she reacted so strongly every time Malone suggested she should leave. The lad was fighting a losing battle there. Roxton would give anything to have even a few more minutes with his brother, if only to say he was sorry.
He could only pray that William held no hostility toward him as his demented dreams from that ichor-filled cave indicated. Those hallucinations had all been a product of his own guilt, or so he prayed. He would be forever grateful to Summerlee for saving his life and his sanity that day. And bless the old man, he had never breathed a word about what he saw or heard that day to any of the others. For that he would be eternally grateful. A man's pain was his own after all, or should be.
But he hated seeing Ned Malone in pain or even causing unwitting pain to the young girl who tended him. He shifted to a new position, straightening slightly. "You do realize that Malone doesn't mean anything with his talk of London."
Blue eyes snapped to his in surprise then her lips pursed as she realized their argument was that blatant even to Roxton who obviously had other more important things to think about at the moment. Veronica found it difficult to keep things private with so many people about. And the small circle their world had suddenly become it was not surprising that conversations were overheard. Though it unnerved her sometimes, especially when it concerned her.
"He places such significance on that damn place." Her fair head shook in frustration. "It would be nice to visit but I'm not ready yet."
"He just wants to share his world with you like you shared yours with him."
She sagged a bit. "I know, but why doesn't he accept the fact that I'm not leaving here until I'm ready....until I know ..." Faltering, she turned away.
"He's beginning to figure that out. Give him time. When the times comes, he'll understand."
"Then he shouldn't keep comparing my world to his. It's annoying."
Roxton smiled wearily and settled himself against the rock wall. He knew he wasn't going to stay awake much longer and he needed to rest for tomorrow. "You can't blame a man for trying, Veronica. We're a bull-headed lot. Ask Marguerite," he mumbled.
"What she knows about men, I'm not sure I want to know," she snorted.
"You'd get an education about us, that's for sure. None of it good either."
Veronica chuckled. The man couldn't be more accurate about that fact.
"Just remember, it's not always logic but compromise that moves a relationship along."
Veronica regarded him. That was sound advice and made far too much sense coming from Roxton. "Is that what she believes?"
"Who?" Roxton asked, stifling a yawn.
"Marguerite." Though, now that she thought about it that made less sense than Roxton coming up with that wisdom.
The man shrugged. "It was something my mother always said. She always wanted me to marry."
This admission took her by surprise. Roxton never spoke of his parents. But these last few dire hours brought many loved ones to the forefront of everyone's minds.
"Will you?"
Roxton cocked open an eyelid and mumbled. "When I find the right one." There was a gleam in his eye that indicated he had a fairly good idea he already had. His hand dropped to his pocket and fingered the small rough gem he had found earlier this morning. It was almost an unconscious thing to offer him comfort.
Veronica frowned at the hunter; she would have preferred he found someone else worthy of his honorable nobility than the deceitful and self-centered heiress. It pained her to think that Marguerite would no doubt break this man's heart someday, but she patted his arm, knowing that this was not the time or place to debate that. "Sleep. I'll rotate the night watch with Ned."
He didn't even protest. "Wake me at sunrise. And take stock of our ammo. We need to make it last. Perhaps we can signal the camp from the top of the hill. Send for more--." He was still tossing out instructions when he drifted off to sleep.
She smiled down at him. Even in the midst of a life threatening crisis and a painful injury the hunter still found time to be concerned about her love life.
Love life?
Could she really call it that? Should she? These things were fairly new to her. There had been dalliances sure, but most of them were platonic and safe. She had only thought she had been in love once and now over the passage of time that surety had begun to fade. Replaced perhaps because of what she now felt for Malone.
Rising to her feet, she came over to the reporter and watched the darkness with him. They were silent for a long while. Occasionally Malone would glance over at her and smile reassuringly but he wouldn't say a word.
Finally, she turned to him. "How are your scratches? We should take a look at them." She reached for his shirt.
"They're fine." He pulled away.
"Don't be that way, Ned."
He stilled. "They're just scratches," he said quietly.
"Which can get just as easily infected as Roxton's. The honey has a better chance of working on you really. They're not as deep." She disappeared for a second and then returned with the pouch of honey.
Malone's face was already turning all shades of colors at the visions of Veronica smearing his chest with honey. His memory flashed back to the time in the large beehive where she had been coated with the stuff so that she glistened like a newborn goddess. Oh the thoughts that had raced in his head that day were just about too much for him. He stepped away as if she held a satchel of serpents instead. His obvious desire was rising in very noticeable places. He almost turned from her.
"What's the matter with you?" she said. "Its just honey. It won't hurt."
Malone got annoyed at that statement. That was the least of his worries. And he hated that she didn't have the sense to see that wasn't the issue. One minute she was mad at him and the next minute it was about skinny-dipping at the pond and now smearing honey on him. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How clueless could a woman be?
But he stayed his ground lest she think he was afraid. He braced himself, knowing how her touch was the one thing that seared him to his very soul. How could one person have so much power in them? Perhaps it would be best not to bring her to London? She would have so many suitors, Malone couldn't hope to hold them all off. With so many to choose from, she might not choose him and suddenly that pained him as well, even more than the wounds.
From his expression, Veronica assumed she was hurting him physically and apologized as her hand spread the honey over the long thin scratches.
Malone angled his head down and looked at her. "It doesn't hurt," he strained to say, but it came out a small gasp. She raised an eyebrow. He quickly covered, casting his thoughts to something mundane and completely irrelevant. "My aunt's cat back home has done worse damage than this to me. Trust me."
That elicited a smile from her and Malone cherished its appearance. It was the one thing he worshiped most of all. It transformed her into a lovely woman with a light heart, one without all the cares and burdens she carried around every day. She always strived to take on more and more responsibility, not just to them but also to other denizens of the plateau. She never turned away someone in need and she never shirked her obligations. It was a marvel.
"Your aunt's cat was large then?" she asked.
"Yes, and it once trapped me in the bathroom. I was in there for hours as it sat by the door hissing."
"No one came to your rescue?"
"It was late. Everyone was asleep." His voice had finally settled and was a mere whisper now. His eyes lost in the glow of her hair from the fire.
"How did you escape?"
His gaze dropped into the depths of her eyes, his hand reaching up to move a stray strand aside so he could see them better. "I threw a bath towel over it and booted it aside. Opened the door and ran. It was locked in there the whole night mewing and spitting."
"You never told me you had experience with cats." Her voice was low as well; her hand was still skimming lightly over his chest, drawing thin lines of honey with her fingers.
"It didn't seem the same thing. Besides, I didn't have my weapon of choice with me." Malone's attention was more on the sensation her fingers caused than on what he was saying.
Her head cocked in puzzlement.
"Um, my bath towel," he told her.
Her genuine laughter resounded in the silence surrounding them. She pressed an arm over her mouth as she fought the giggles. Malone grinned broadly at her, pleased that he could make her laugh as well as smile. He was drunk with the power of it.
Veronica finally got her laughter under control. "Now that I would have loved to have seen," she admitted.
Malone blushed a bit, his mind flashing on him running naked out the bath door only to run into Veronica outside. Her eyes wide, her mouth caught in a little shocked o-shape. Stammering, he stepped back, drawing his shirt closed. "Well, t-that was a long time ago."
Puzzled, Veronica let her hand drop away. But she recovered quickly from his retreat from her. "Next time, we'll carry some towels with us for protection." She smiled gently, hoping again to recapture the moment.
Malone sighed, but returned the smile. "Somehow I don't think these big cats would be frightened of me and my bath towel."
Veronica bit her lip as she imagined Ned Malone fully naked and waving a bath towel at a huge, hungry sabertooth cat. She abruptly shook her head and stepped back. "One of us should get some sleep," she mumbled, struggling to ban the image from her mind.
That seemed like a distinct impossibility now, thought Malone as he stared after her. She was an amazing woman and no matter what she did, even if it was as simple as caring for his wound, she consumed his every thought.
The woman made any who stood in her light a pale imitation of a shadow. Was it any wonder he wanted to share her with the whole world? He had never met another woman like her. And he never would.
Tbc
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