Shepherd (3 page)

“I'm pretty sure there isn't. They aren't built to go on land, having no bony skeleton. No reason to breathe air. So such a discovery would indeed be remarkable.”

“And I knew the date: half a year hence.”

Shep considered that. “I think we are in an unusual situation, lying here beside the sheep, guarded by a python. So we experienced unusual dreams.”

“That must be it. I will return to my place so you can sleep in peace.”

“Must you?” He had spoken before he thought.

“Are you thinking of my body?”

He felt himself flushing. “I apologize.”

“Don't do that! I shouldn't have shown you.”

“Probably you shouldn't have, yes. Such a sight turns a man on. He's hard-wired.”

“I did not mean to tease you. I was annoyed because you thought me a child.”

“I was badly mistaken.”

“I'll sleep here,” she decided. She still held his hand.

Shep did not protest, though her near presence tormented him. It was possible that was her intention. He was determined not to let his distress show, though probably she knew. If they were in a kind of competition, she was ahead.

What did she really want?

“Tomorrow you must tell me of Earth,” she said.

“I will.” But that was surely not it.

Soon he could tell by her even breathing that she was asleep again, still holding his hand. Finally he slept too.

Chapter 3:

Hike

The sheep were stirring, about ready to go. “There were prowlers in the night,” Elen said as she sat up. Her dark hair was unbound and mussed, flowing around her bare body like a turbulent stream. “See, there are the scuffings, beyond where the sheep lay. A wolf pack, I think.”

“They were protecting us!” Shep said. “Because Python couldn't have stopped more than one or two at a time.”

“Yes. But the wolves knew better than to attack even sleeping sheep, or to try to get past them. So they moved on.”

“And when the danger was past, the sheep moved on too,” Shep said. “Now it makes sense.”

“The sheep always make sense. We just don't always understand it at the time.”

“Which accounts for everything except our odd dreams.”

She smiled. “The sheep were close. Maybe they influenced our dreams.”

“For what possible purpose?”

Elen shrugged. “Perhaps some day we will know.”

Shep and Elen quickly ate, packed their sleeping bags, and joined the sheep. Python and Vulture left the tree and came too, side by side, the one slithering, the other hopping. They both evidently trusted the truce.

“The directives are yours to give,” Elen said. “But I will show the way.”

Okay. “Python, go head and check for dangers,” Shep said. To his surprise the big snake slithered rapidly forward. “Vulture, fly up and survey the landscape for problems.” The big bird flew.

Shep looked at Elen. “Do they actually understand me?”

“They do,” she said. “They are moderately telepathic, at least in the presence of the sheep. They respond to your mental command, rather than your words.”

That might explain a lot. “Elf, show the way.” Elen walked smartly forward.

“Sheep, follow the Elf.” But the sheep remained standing.

“Play a note,” Elen called. “They expect that signal.”

A note?

“On the Mirliton,” Elen called.

Shep knew what a mirliton was. He had an amateur interest in music. It was an instrument like a kazoo, sounded by the human voice. He had none with him.

“Your staff,” she called.

Surprised, he looked at the staff. It was a huge pipe! Somehow in the distraction of events he had never really examined it. He lifted one end to his mouth and blew. There was only the sound of air. Then he voiced it. It sounded vaguely like a horn.

The sheep began walking. Shep paced them, bemused. A makeshift mirliton!

So far so good. But he was a rank amateur at this, and remained nervous. What else did he have to learn about this business?

Vulture flew back down. She was a fairly ungainly flyer; she could do it, but it expended much effort. She settled onto the back of a sheep, and the sheep carried her without protest.

Python returned. Things were evidently satisfactory ahead, but the path led to the Elf village, which was surely not good for an unattended serpent. So Python slithered in the center of the flock. Shep considered, then joined her there. Elen continued ahead, leading them through the village.

The elves ignored them all. They knew what this was, and let the flock pass unchallenged, especially since one of their own was leading it.

Beyond the village they were quickly in wild country. Elen directed the sheep, knowing the lay of this land, and they followed a reasonably clear contour. Shep admired the colorful trees and shrubs, similar to Earth's but different. Maybe some of them had been imported from Earth, and were now turning feral.

“There's a river ahead,” Elen said. “I'm directing us to a section where it is only waist deep on you, but the current there is strong. The sheep can handle it, and Python, and Vulture can simply fly across. But you may have a problem.”

“If you can ford it, so can I.”

“We will need to strip, to preserve our clothing.”

That made him pause. Going naked with her? That would surely give his body wicked and embarrassing ideas. “Maybe I can cross a different section, alone.”

“No.”

“No?”

“This is the one crossable section. Even then we shall have to go in between the sheep, because of the crocs.”

Oh. “Well, what must be, must be. You don't have to look.”

“Of course I'll look,” she said. “You looked at my body.”

“You're teasing me!”

“Maybe.”

Actually she was teasing him just by being near him. She probably relished the chance to embarrass him. He should never have called her a child.

All too soon they came to the river. It was exactly as she had described it. He saw the green nostrils of the lurking crocs. The water might be swift here, a virtual cataract, but it was clear that the scaly predators had no trouble handling it. This could be their main feeding ground.

“Organize the crossing,” Elen said.

“Isn't that a formality? You and the sheep both know better than I do how to proceed.”

“You're the shepherd.”

Why had the sheep selected a man who did not know the planetary landscape or its creatures? Was it that his ignorance allowed them to govern the journey, whereas a native man would have had ideas of his own?

Well, on with it. “Elen and I will strip to ford the river,” he announced. “You sheep will surround us, to fend off the crocs.”

Then he stripped, cramming his clothing in the top of his knapsack. Elen did likewise, by removing her cloak. She just as winsome as ever, with her hair caressing her shapely body down to her pert bottom. It masked her attributes only partially, flashing teasing glimpses as she walked. She had to know the effect.

He walked quickly to the water. Elen fell in beside him, and so did Python, evidently preferring not to risk multiple attackers. The sheep formed a box around them, three on a side.

Shep's bare feet touched the water. Ouch! It was icy cold. But that had one beneficial effect: it abated any idea his body might have had of expressing any sexual interest in anyone. Relieved, he marched on in, letting his legs go numb as they descended into the swiftly moving water. Then he held his breath as his mid section was submerged. Talk about freezing one's balls off!

And had Elen known about this too? Surely so. So maybe her teasing had been on another level. His discomfort was real, but not of the kind he had anticipated.

Meanwhile the sheep forged on in up to their necks, seeming not to mind the chill. They braced against the current, their footing sure beneath it.

There were splashes on either side as the frustrated crocs milled. They dared not touch the sheep, even here in the croc's home territory.

In the center there was a swifter surge of water that swept Python sideways, up against Shep. “I've got you, fella,” Shep said, bracing for them both. Even one day ago he could hardly have imagined colliding with such a serpent and not being horrified.

In a moment Python recovered and slid forward, her head weaving from side to side as she swam. She spied the far bank within range and accelerated toward it. She was clearly a decent swimmer, but these swift cold water currents were no more appealing to her than they were to Shep.

The river became shallower as they approached the far bank. At last they were out of it. Shep was violently shivering. Then he looked at Elf, who was perhaps half his mass and more of whose body had been immersed, and saw she was worse off than he was. Her whole body was blue with cold and her teeth were chattering, yet she was not complaining.

“Oh, Elen!” he said, and swept her into his embrace. He was cold, but far warmer than she. Then the sheep crowded close, not out of discomfort but to provide warmth for the humans. Gratefully, Shep and Elen lay down between them, soaking in the warmth of their woolly bodies. Python remained with them; she was cold bodied, but needed warmth to avoid becoming torpid. Only Vulture had escaped untouched.

Gradually they all warmed. “Probably we'll dry and heat faster if we are moving,” Shep said. “Now that the edge is off. Thank you, sheep.”

The sheep moved clear, and Shep and Elen quickly dried, away from their wet wool. The two of them got into their clothes, though hers was only her voluminous cloak. Then the party moved forward again.

“You held me with no thought of using me,” Elen said as they walked.

“True. I couldn't stand to see you suffering like that.”

“Thank you.”

“You knew how bad it would be for you, yet you walked right on in.”

“A girl does what she has to do. We had to cross.”

“I could have carried you across,” he said, belatedly realizing. “So you never got wet.”

She shrugged. “Maybe next time. There will be challenges enough ahead. Soon.”

She wasn't fooling. Soon they came to a wide strip of what looked like desert. Here the sun bore down on black sand, and it was burning. Too fiery to stand on for any length of time. Shep was amazed at how cold the stream had been, and how hot this sand was, when the two were not far apart. But of course this was not Earth; different natural laws governed. “We'll have to wait until night,” he said. “When the sand cools.”

“Not safe,” Elen said. “There are sandworms that come up at night, too big for the sheep to stop. We need to cross now. I had hoped there would be a cloud.”

“I don't think now is feasible,” Shep said.

Vulture had taken off when they came to the sand. Now she returned, squawking.

“The worms are already stirring in the shade,” Elen said. “We don't have much time.”

Shep considered. “Can the sheep handle the sand?”

“Yes. Their hooves are hardened to this.”

“I think my boots will do, if we move right along.” Shep glanced at Elen's feet. “But not your slippers. I'll carry you. But that leaves Python.”

But Python was already crawling up on the back of a ewe, and on to a second, and a third. They were were carrying her.

“Then let's move,” Shep said, and blew a note on his staff. The sheep moved out, three abreast, the second rank carrying Python. Obviously they had complete control of their defensive knife-bones, and did not stab anything by accident.

Shep looked at Elen, uncertain how to carry her. “Over your shoulders,” she said. “Get down and I'll climb on.” She had already removed her cloak and put it in her knapsack.

He squatted, and she strewed herself across his shoulders above his knapsack, her midsection behind his neck, her knees and hands in front of him to either side. “Put one hand on my shoulder,” she said. “The other on my thigh.”

He did so, and stood. She had positioned herself well, and seemed light. He stepped out onto the sand. Only then did Vulture take wing, flying across the sand. They were all on their way, all ten members of the flock.

The heat smote him, rising around his body like a baleful cloud. He was starting to sweat. But he was even more aware of his burden. Elen's bare thighs pressed against his right ear, and her bare breasts against his left ear, while his hands held on to her limbs farther out. This was not supposed to be a suggestive situation, but it was as if she were making masked love to him. Every step he took jogged her slightly against him, increasing the interaction. She was sweating too, moistening her contact with him.

“Am I teasing you?” she asked.

“Yes. But it can't be helped.”

“I will make it up to you in due course.”

“You have no obligation.”

“That depends.”

Now the heat was penetrating his boots. Shep extended his stride and sped up, needing to get on across faster.

“Especially if you burn your feet on my account,” Elen said.

He would have laughed, but it was too close to the truth.

Meanwhile the sheep marched stolidly on, their pace never varying, their feet never faltering. It seemed that this was all in the day's work to them.

Now Shep was practically running. His feet here getting uncomfortably hot, and Elen's thighs and breasts massaged his ears, generating quite another kind of sensation.

But now the far side was near, and a few more steps took him there. Elen unwound and landed on her feet as Shep dropped to the ground and yanked off his burning boots.

Meanwhile the sheep completed their crossing, and Python slid off their backs. Vulture was already there. They had all made it across with no serious injuries.

“I'll find water,” Elen said, putting her cloak back on. “I know where to look.” She walked away.

“You girls okay?” Shep inquired of the sheep, who were standing in the relatively cool foliage. “No burned hooves?”

One actually answered him with a bleat. It seemed they were all right.

Elen returned. “This way. There's a small pond.”

They followed her to the pond. Vulture stood with her feet in the shallow edge and dipped her beak, scooping up water; she was hot too. Python simply slithered out into the middle. The sheep waded in a few steps, then dipped their noses to drink.

“Not you?” Elen asked him.

“It's the shepherd's job, as I understand it, to make sure of his flock before tending to his own needs.”

“That is a good understanding. But they seem to be satisfied.”

“Yes.” He threw himself down and put his mouth to the water, drinking deeply. The liquid was neither hot nor cold, which was a relief. Then he changed position and put his feet in. “How about you?”

“My feet aren't hot, thanks to you.” She put her hands in and massaged his feet. “You did well. I knew you were hurting.”

He smiled. “It could have been worse. I had a distraction.”

She did not pretend confusion. “I am glad to have helped.” She glanced up impishly. “Should I kiss your hot feet to make them better?”

“No need.”

“Then I will kiss you instead.” She raised her body, moved over to him, and kissed him on the mouth. As before, it was no amateur effort. He remained unmoving, uncertain how to respond. “Better?” she inquired as she broke.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

Elen smiled. “Shep, if I wanted to seduce you, I'd just do it. This is merely flirting.”

“Or teasing.”

“Whatever. Do you wish me to stop?”

What could he say? “No, not really.”

“Things will clarify in due course.”

He hoped so. She was evidently out to impress him, and was succeeding. It was time to change the subject. “We have crossed a river and a sand bar today, and it is getting late. Is there a safe place to spend the night?”