Unnatural Instinct: Blood Run

9.

You twist and turn in your bindings without result. Tears stream down your cheeks at the pain in your wrists and at the humiliation of your situation.

It takes several attempts before you manage to get to your feet. At standing height, your wrists are tied at the level of your hips, and to a long thick branch, one so big it runs the length of the wall. You try to use your fingers to untie his knots but your fingers scrabble uselessly against them; you're at the wrong angle and he's tied them ridiculously tight.

Finally, you give up. Instead, you yank with all your might at the branch, before quickly realising what a stupid idea it is; if you dislodge it, you're likely to pull the whole wall down on top of yourself. At a loss, you sag back into the pelts. All you can do is wait.

He's gone hours. You try to sleep but it's too uncomfortable: the wall is hard against your back, your wrists burn against the rope and the blood from your upraised arms pools painfully in the muscles of your shoulders. Not to mention how you sweat and stink. The smell of his semen is getting worse in the heat. It's well and truly dried and you can feel it stretch and crinkle against your skin whenever you move.

The sun steadily sinks towards the horizon. A cool wind picks up, brushing through your hair, and for a moment you forget about your worries. You stare into the distance as the sky turns pink. It's like no sunset you've ever seen before. Back in your village, the best view you have is atop the clock tower. There, you can see for miles. But here ... it's like you're standing at the height of several clock towers, and instead of looking down over a bustling population of busy women and the acres upon acres of uninterrupted farmland, you look over a forest so expansive it disappears into the distance.

It calms you and you allow yourself to forget what's awaiting you in the days ahead. Your breathing turns steady. You try not to notice the pain in your body. Just as the sun sinks below the horizon, splashing a harsh, glaring red against the shelter, you turn your head at the sound of a soft growl. There's the sound of snuffling. Your first thought is that he's returned, and you quickly pull your legs underneath yourself into a half-crouch and twist your face into a snarl. Then you see his shadow and you realise it's not him at all. Your eyes widen. Trying to keep quiet, you push your back against the wall, as though every inch matters for your survival against this dangerous animal.

It's ambling along, sniffing at the trees and pawing at the earth. It hasn't seen you yet. You watch as it sniffs at the place where your predator ejaculated. It backs away with a snort, turns and sees you. It stares at you for several heart-stopping moments. Everything you've learned about bears whistles like the wind through you mind: don't look it in the eye, run downhill, pretend to be dead. Don't leave out any food.

Your eyes lift to the empty rabbit carcass hanging from the ceiling. You'd finished eating its flesh hours before; that's why your male predator's gone hunting. Whether it's skin or bone or organ, it doesn't matter to the bear, who's foaming around the snout. You jerk back in horror when it suddenly rises up onto its hind legs, sniffing.

It's quick. You manage to bite back a shriek as it pounces towards the shelter and snatches down the dead rabbit. Pressing its snout into its open belly with a growl, it sits back on its fat rump and starts eating it.

With a wince, you turn your head away, watching from the corner of your eye. It devours it quickly and soon it's licking its paws. Rolling back onto all fours, it investigates the blood-streaked board, which it also licks, before investigating the rest of the shelter. You freeze; you stop breathing, your back braced hard against the wall.

All too quickly it turns to you. Pretend to be dead. Pretend to be dead. Pretend to be dead. Don't move. Don't move. DON'T MOVE.

Playing dead doesn't work. It sniffs through the pelts, tickling your feet with its soft snout, paying particular attention to those you've bloodied. It gives them a lick. Snapping your eyes shut, you press your cheek hard against the wall as you turn desperately away from it. A scream bubbles in your throat but you push it down into your stomach.

It's sniffing your calves now. It snorts and growls again. Warm drool patters onto your legs. You hiss through your teeth as it claws at your knee. Then it's at your hips, where it pauses. It sniffs, then pulls back with a snort, much like it did to the semen at the tree. It approaches again, sniffs, only to back away again, shaking its head with a whine. Andyou suddenly realise the semen's purpose: it isn't meant to mark you as apossession; it's for protection. To warn off predators or rivals.

The bear isn't hungry enough to confront the most dangerous predator in all the forest. Immediately it retreats from the shelter and hurries away. By the time it disappears into the trees, the sun has set and you're crying.

Though the stars twinkle brightly in the sky, you have never known a twilight filled with such terror. What other beast might be lurking close by? And this time, will your male's scent be enough to warn it away? Your male. Your male. You can't believe you're thinking it, but that's the truth of it. In his eyes you're his female. And right at that moment you'd give anything to have him back; to have him protect you and keep you safe from the terrors of the forest.

Your cheeks are still wet and your heart lurches in relief upon his return. He's carrying a large dead animal over his shoulder. You try not to show your excitement but a cry escapes your lips, nonetheless. After depositing the carcass, he turns to release you.

'Please,' you say, twisting your wrists in their bindings.

Crouching in front of you, he cuts you loose with his knife and falls back with a surprised grunt when you fling yourself into his arms.