Page 18 of Wild Life

Cryptid marched up to us and snapped his finger sharply. A sign for his companion to retreat.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” The mammoth pig had scared me at first, with his size and his screeching, but now, I realized he wasn’t a threat. In fact, he was kind of cute, like an oversized marshmallow with fur.

The brute stared at us, unsure if he should trust us together. I massaged one of the pig’s ears, and he burrowed his nose into my belly, clearly enjoying the affection.At least someone enjoys my company.

The big jerk exhaled a haughty breath and turned back to the fire. He extracted a knife and busied himself with whatever task was at hand. Over his shoulder, I saw a streak of blood on his knife. I quickly glanced away. My guess was, he was preparing dinner, but I didn’t have the stomach to see the carcass.

Fluttering sounds overhead drew my attention to the purple sky. A flurry of black skittered across the haze.

“Bats!” I squealed, jumping to my feet. The pig screeched, protesting the loss of my lap.

With everything that had happened, I had completely forgotten about my research. Ordinarily, there wasn’t a day when I wasn’t thinking about the little critters. My insides vibrated with giddiness as I watched what must’ve been a hundred bats flapping through the sky. I must have witnessed this sight thousands of times, and the majesty of it had never waned.

He was peering at them with interest, his hands idle for probably the first time in the short while I had known him.

The pig grunted at us and stalked away, not happy that our attention had diverted from him.

I craned my neck, tracing their flight pattern. Their roost was most likely to my left, as they flew in hoards toward the opposite direction.

“The entire colony is awake,” I murmured, mostly to myself, and a little for Cryptid, too.

Like shadows, they moved with urgency, their lives depending on this one flight. “They’re searching for fresh water,” I continued. “After sleeping all day, they’re thirsty and will glide to the nearest source and swallow a mouthful before heading off to hunt for the night.”

If a body of water was to my right, then that would mean the jungle most likely thinned out on my left, and led to the shore. It made sense, the trees were lusher in the direction the bats were heading. I would know...I had been pinned up against one not long ago.

The warm shudder that happened so often now that it seemed to have become a habit traveled through my body, clenching my core.Really, Maris? Now is when you decide to reminisce about the wild man’s dick threatening to impale you?

I shook my head, clearing my brain of the caveman smut that it was addicted to. Maybe he hadn’t noticed anything.

His severe gaze was already on me, penetrating my skin.

Break the silence, Maris.My forced smile never reached my eyes. “I like bats.”

All he offered in return was a half-hearted nod.

I was starving for conversation, and I took that as my invitation to keep talking. Planting my butt back down on the ground, I took the lead. “I study them. That’s what I was doing before I ended up here. I was on my way to Fiji. Do you know where Fiji is?”

His bushy brows knitted together, as if I weren’t making any sense.

I persisted. I was so desperate to get home that I would figure out where I was even if I had to beat it out of him. Okay, maybe notbeathim, because he’d probably roast me as a consequence—like the unidentifiable animal whose body had been dismembered and put over the fire.

“Do you know which way Fiji is?” If I had an approximate location, I could figure out where the hell I was.

Nothing. No semblance of recognition of what I was asking. No gesture of caring to help.

“Are you alone here? Do you have any family?” I assumed he was solo because there was no evidence of a partner or children in the hut. Aside from the minimal furniture and random junk that littered the shelves, it was bare, like he didn’t spend much time there himself.

I’d placed him around the same age as me, thirty-two, or maybe a few years older. To be in your thirties and have to spend it doing manual labor on a deserted island without a friend to call at the end of the day to vent to or family to embrace had to have been a far lonelier life than the one I lived back in Washington. At least I had friends, a rotating carousel of men, and Aunt Sherri, though none offered the kind of closeness I craved.

Cryptid’s expression deepened with something I couldn’t pinpoint. Whatever it was, it caused his focus to dart away from me and to the fire and then back to the pig, who had returned to his side for some petting. His large hands stroked the furry coat of the content animal, almost like he was comforting himself. They were an ironic sight to witness together—both exaggerated versions of their species.

The thick aroma of meat wafted into my nose, interrupting my train of thought, and my stomach growled. I was starving and had a hankering for barbecue. My gaze flashed to the pig, then guiltily away, catching the wild man’s knowing stare. I smiled awkwardly.

“So, what did you find while you were hunting earlier?” I forced my voice to remain casual, as if we hadn’t had thatthingin the jungle.

He strode over to the fire. When he returned, he carried a stick with a chunk of meat speared on it. It was pale, almost like chicken or fish.

“What’s that?”

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