Ensnared: An Alien Romance Trilogy (The Spider’s Mate Book 1)
Ensnared: Chapter 8

With Ivy occupying his every thought since he’d found her, Ketahn had all but forgotten that his nighttime hunt had yielded no meat—at least not the sort for eating. His choice to relocate to the Tangle, to live apart from his people, had been made with full understanding of the expectations it would place upon him.

A hunter must provide.

He was to provide meat to the vrix of Takarahl, each of whom did their part to aid the survival of their city. Failure to deliver would be noted. The queen had imposed no mandate upon the hunters, but her scribes monitored everything—including the food brought in by the city’s roving hunters.

There was no doubt that Zurvashi would use any excuse at her disposal to draw Ketahn back to Takarahl at her whim. He had no intention of giving her another reason to do so.

And yet he could not turn his focus away from Ivy. She was hungry, and he needed to provide for her. He did not have the luxury of days to prowl the branches and stalk the undergrowth. As small and delicate as she was, he feared Ivy would not last that long without fresh food. And this morning’s hunt couldn’t even be considered a hunt at all—he’d found only a few animal signs, all days old, at least, and the calls he’d heard from creatures large enough to provide adequate meat had each come from hundreds of segments away. It was as though Ivy’s scream last night had scared away everything in the Tangle.

Fortunately, the Tangle had other bounties obtained easily enough for those who knew the way, and he’d filled a small pouch to bulging with food. Perhaps it was little better than the roots and mushrooms of which Urkot and Rekosh had complained, but a full belly was better than one turning in on itself in hunger any time.

What he’d managed to forage thus far could scarce be considered a meal for a vrix, but he hoped it would be enough for his Ivy, if only for a little while. He’d be far less distracted if her gut wasn’t making odd, gurgling, growling noises that she’d implied indicated hunger.

Ketahn climbed the broad trunk of a leaning grubwood tree, using the claws on the tips of his fingers and legs to latch onto the rough bark. His every muscle still ached, and climbing required more effort than usual, but his rest had dulled the discomfort and refreshed him enough for it to be bearable.

The Tangle was a different place by day. The sunlight breaking through the roof of leaves overhead set off the greens, browns, blues, and purples in a way at once far subtler but more vibrant than their nighttime glows, and different animals were active and calling.

He paused high off the ground to listen to those calls, turning his head aside. The hot, thick air hung around him without the slightest breeze to disturb it; he welcomed it after the stale, cool air in the tunnels of Takarahl.

After the impossibly clean, crisp, scentless air in the chamber where he’d found Ivy.

His mandibles twitched as he recalled what she’d communicated to him earlier this morning—she’d asked if he meant to eat her.

The thought might’ve made him chitter in amusement had it not been so sickening. He’d sampled meat from many jungle creatures, but he would never eat the flesh of a creature like Ivy. Even though she looked nothing like a vrix, she was more like his kind than any other animal he’d encountered. She was intelligent—intelligent enough that they’d already begun to learn one another’s languages in the short time they’d spent together.

Ketahn brushed the pad of a finger across the line of his mouth.

Lips. Pronouncing the word was difficult, but he longed to say it himself—to say it in a way she’d understand. Those plump little strips of flesh intrigued him for many reasons, only one of which was the way she used them to shape her words.

He twisted his torso away from the trunk, hanging from it precariously as he swung his gaze in the direction of the cursed pit. He understood that it had not been a cave in which he’d discovered her, but what could it be called, then? A temple, like those that had been erected in some of the other vrix cities? An elaborate burial chamber?

Ketahn couldn’t begin to imagine how the place had been built. His people had metal—gold—but there wasn’t enough of it in all the world to build something so large, with so many intricate and complex pieces.

Cocoon was the only word he knew for the things Ivy and the other creatures had been sealed in, but he knew that wasn’t right. Were they really eggs? Nests? Something more sinister? Someone or something had built that place with materials and methods far beyond anything Ketahn or his kind possessed, possibly even beyond the capabilities of the gods themselves.

Until he could communicate clearly with Ivy, he would have no answers. She—a strange, frail, unknown creature—was his only hope for information. She had to know somethi—

Ketahn stilled as a sound echoed between the trees—the clack of stone against stone in a short, quick rhythm. A familiar rhythm. Hunters from Takarahl had used such means of communication in the Tangle for generations. Though nearby animals were alerted by the sounds, they were far less often as frightened as they would’ve been by vrix shouts.

The simple method of communication had proven valuable in the war against the thornskulls, during which many of the males who’d been drawn into service with the Queen’s Claw had spent long times in the thickest parts of the jungle with poor visibility.

He slid his hand up the shaft of his spear to grasp it just beneath its head and reached back to retrieve his knife from his bag. With both weapons in hand, he brought the flats of the blackrock blades together, producing a clacking beat.

The answer came within a few moments, another staggered rhythm just off from the first two. Two hundred segments away, perhaps three hundred.

Ketahn climbed around to the opposite side of the trunk and dropped onto a wide branch. He moved in the direction from which the signals had come. He did not often encounter other hunters in the Tangle, and he wasn’t necessarily in the mood to speak with anyone, but he could not ignore such signals.

After a short while, he repeated the signal. When he received the answer, it came from far closer, and he altered his course to follow the sound.

Movement ahead soon caught his attention—a figure stalking along a branch that was higher than Ketahn’s, gliding through patches of shadow and shafts of sunlight as it approached. Ketahn knew those bright green markings anywhere.

Telok.

Ketahn halted on a wide portion of the branch, where it was braced by another bough crossing beneath it.

Telok used the nearby vines and branches to swing himself down onto Ketahn’s level, keeping the shaft of his spear tucked along his straightened arm. The angle of the sunlight striking his hide gave his pale scars long, deep shadows.

Old wounds that Ketahn had nearly forgotten throbbed dully. Many of those wounds, many of his scars, had been suffered during the same battles in which Telok had collected his own.

“I did not think you would still be so far out,” Ketahn said, extending his forelegs as Telok drew near. “Urkot told me you were due back in Takarahl at suncrest.”

Telok stretched his forelegs, tapping their lower segments against Ketahn’s. “The others began their return just before suncrest.”

“And you were content to wander?”

Telok chittered, withdrew his legs, and rested his lower forearms atop his uppermost leg joints. “I do not wander, Ketahn. That is you. I travel ever with purpose.”

With a soft chitter of his own, Ketahn asked, “And what purpose is that?”

“I sought you.”

Ketahn spread his arms to the sides. “And you have found me.”

“I did not expect to.”

Tapping the side of Telok’s leg, Ketahn said, “If any hunter from Takarahl could, it is you.”

Telok huffed and clicked his mandibles together. “I know all your tricks, Ketahn. I could track you through a mire without a handspan of ground above water if I had to. That was not my concern.”

“What, then?”

“I knew you would return to Takarahl for Offering Day, and I feared you would do something to provoke Zurvashi’s ire.”

“Your fears were founded.”

“Yet here you stand.” Telok raked his gaze over Ketahn, leaning back slightly. “Though you look as though you did not have a pleasant night.”

“It was…” Ketahn’s mind raced. He trusted Telok without question, had known him for most of their lives, and he longed to speak to someone about what he’d found last night—especially someone who’d also roamed the Tangle and had undoubtedly seen unnatural things out here.

But at the same time, Ivy was Ketahn’s, and he had no desire to share her with anyone. At least not until he knew more.

“It was long,” Ketahn said, “and I am still sore.”

Telok’s mandibles twitched and rose. “Did she…”

“No. I stalked a soota high in the branches, and just before I could make the kill, a pack of xiskals tried to attack my quarry. The branches could not hold their weight. They happened to be the same branches upon which I was perched.”

“And the soota?” Telok asked.

“I heard it howling in the trees, completely unbothered, as I picked myself up off the ground.”

Telok chittered, and Ketahn couldn’t help but join in. He could replace humor in such things in hindsight—and that was easier than thinking about what had happened after that fall.

“Xiskal meat is tough, but they carry much more of it on their bones than soota,” said Telok. “Perhaps it was a blessing, in the end?”

“The xiskals were lost to the Tangle,” Ketahn replied. “All I gained for my efforts and pain is the story.” And the strangest, most intriguing creature in the world. “What of your hunt?”

“Enough to grant each of Moonfall’s broodlings a portion of meat, at least,” Telok replied. “So long as the others manage to bring it home without catching the notice of the queen’s eyes.”

Something tightened deep in Ketahn’s chest and slowly twisted. “Her eyes?”

Telok thumped the tips of his forelegs on the branch, and his fine hairs bristled. “The queen’s scribes have been awaiting us each time we’ve returned from the hunt these past few moon cycles. They collect the meat, take measure of it down to the smallest bit of sinew, and record it. When they are through, they haul it away.

“The first few times, we thought it odd but did not suspect anything more. Then the others in Moonfall began asking us about it, saying they had received little despite us bringing in a steady supply. This season has been bountiful. There should be meat in every den.”

Telok tipped his head back to look skyward, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his barbed spear along the top of one forearm. “We asked the scribes. We were told only that the food was going to where it was needed the most, and were thanked for our hard work in trying times. The next time we delivered meat, the keepers were accompanied by Claws who tolerated neither questions nor delay.”

Fire blazed inside Ketahn, building heat without any means of venting it, filling his limbs with restless energy for which he had no immediate use. He did not doubt Telok’s story at all, though he could not understand Zurvashi’s motives. What did she stand to gain by angering and weakening the vrix of Takarahl?

The answer might well have been as simple as a belly full of meat whenever she pleased.

Blind anger would do Ketahn no good now—it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Thus far, Ketahn’s rage had not brought about disaster only because of the queen’s desire for him, and he knew her patience was not unending. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder…what would happen were he to submit to Zurvashi?

A foolishly hopeful part of Ketahn imagined her respect for his willpower being enough to grant him some influence over her, allowing him to slowly convince her to improve the lives of the many vrix who’d suffered under her rule. Though he would have hated every moment of it, would it not be a worthy sacrifice? What did his joy matter compared to that of hundreds, thousands of his kind?

But he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t forsake his freedom for anyone—so, perhaps, it was those who’d seen him as some sort of hero after the war who were the true fools. Ketahn had fought for what little he had now. Everyone else could wage their own battles.

And it would never have worked, regardless. The queen was not the sort to be swayed much by anyone, not even a male she claimed was nearly her equal.

He again found himself longing for those simpler days when he, his friends, and his brothers and sisters had been free of such worries. When they’d spent their days in each other’s company, chittering and teasing good-naturedly, wrestling and playing at being warriors, learning the trades of their broodmothers and sires, and exploring the many tunnels, both used and forgotten, that comprised Takarahl.

Ketahn straightened his leg joints to stand higher. “Do you recall the undertunnel we discovered as broodlings? The abandoned path under Moonfall we explored, when the den beside Rekosh’s collapsed?”

Telok’s eyes widened. “I have not thought about it for many years.”

“Nor have I. But it led to the surface, and if it has not caved in… The queen would not have eyes or scribes there. Perhaps a stoneshaper could burrow down from the den of a friendly vrix?”

“Urkot could dig clean through in a day,” Telok said with a thoughtful chitter. “You should come, Ketahn. Your efforts would be of great help.”

Extending a foreleg, Ketahn flattened it along the side of Telok’s. “My place is out here, my friend. My presence in Takarahl would only draw Zurvashi’s attention to Moonfall Tunnel, and your efforts would be for nothing.”

“So, the whispers Rekosh has been hearing are true, then?”

Ketahn released a huff. “The queen declared her intentions before everyone within the Den of Spirits. She has left no question of it.”

Telok tilted his head, angling his gaze toward the jungle floor, which was somewhere far below and out of sight. A tremor rippled through his body, making his hairs rise and fall in quick succession. “I do not envy you, Ketahn.”

“You need not fear for me. I will cut my own path through whatever is to come, regardless of the queen’s desires.”

He could almost envision that path in his mind now, running straight through the dense plant life, leading him back to his hanging den. Back to…Ivy.

She needed him more than anyone else did. She was depending upon him. And that was his purpose this morning—to provide for her. As delicate as she seemed, there was no telling how quickly her body would fail without food. Telok at least had his fellow hunters for support, the vrix dwelling in Moonfall Tunnel had one another, but Ivy had no one except Ketahn.

Telok thumped Ketahn’s leg with his own. “You must tell me how it went. I can only imagine what you said to her, Ketahn.”

“Another time, my friend,” Ketahn replied, offering an apologetic bow. “I am certain Rekosh would thrill in recounting the tale, but should you wish to hear it from me, it will have to be another time. If I do not resume my hunt, I will have hungry days ahead.”

Sliding back, Telok sank into a bow of his own. “Allow me to accompany you. I will gladly teach you to hunt properly.”

Ketahn chittered. “Have you forgotten already, Telok, that you are the one who taught me all those years ago? All my failed methods were learned from you.”

Curling his hands into loose fists, Telok tapped them against his chest. “Your words pierce more surely than a spear, Ketahn. I must demand the chance to prove myself the more skilled hunter.”

Ketahn bowed deeper still. “You will have your chance soon enough, but I will not allow an unfair contest between us. It must wait until you have recovered from the hunt you have just ended.”

“You are the one who fell through half the Tangle,” Telok replied with a chitter. “I shall allow you time to recover. And then I shall make you wish you had remained a weaver.”

“Or you shall wish you had become a weaver instead.” Ketahn rose from his bow. “Be safe, Telok. May their eightfold eyes look upon you favorably.”

Telok straightened also, drumming his forelegs on the branch. “And you, Ketahn. I am glad she did not eat you alive.”

“Had she done so, I would have used my final breath to ensure she choked.”

“You must at least hold out until I am there to witness it. I would not want to miss such a display.”

Telok departed, heading in the direction of Takarahl, while Ketahn turned toward his den.

Keeping alert, Ketahn searched for more food as he traversed the jungle, all the while battling his conflicting, chaotic thoughts about Ivy, the queen, and the situation in Moonfall Tunnel. The joy of encountering Telok faded as time passed, and Ketahn’s mind turned increasingly toward Ivy as he neared his den.

Before long, he’d forgotten about Zurvashi and her cruelty. There were countless mysteries to contemplate regarding Ivy, more than enough to drive away his worries and drown out his concerns with bubbling curiosity and excitement.

He recalled the words Ivy had taught him in her language. Some, like her word for food and the one that meant the pink flesh around her mouth, had those odd sounds in them that he had trouble recreating, but he enjoyed the challenge. She’d not pronounced many vrix words properly, either, but the two of them were building understanding.

When he reached the area below his den, he climbed high, barely noticing the many gouges he’d left in the wood over the years. The climb had become instinctual, though it certainly felt different this morning because he wasn’t hauling fresh meat up with him.

The den was swaying gently in the breeze, and the surrounding branches were creaking their familiar songs. Drops of dew still glistened on the webbing overhead. The sunlight cocooned the den in pure light, making it seem otherworldly—though it could never appear as otherworldly as the place he’d found Ivy.

Ketahn fastened his spear to the side of his bag and ascended, crossing the web eagerly. The den was already bouncing and swinging when he reached it.

He repeated Ivy’s unusual words in his mind as he climbed toward the opening, determined not to forget them.

Determined to show Ivy that he was hungry to learn from her, hungry to teach her.

Ketahn swept aside the hanging cloth, grasped the edges of the opening, and pulled himself into the den. He stilled with only half his body through the opening, muscles tensing. Ivy, who’d kept herself huddled against the far wall since he’d brought her here, was nowhere in sight.

His hide prickled with blooming panic an instant before movement flickered at the edge of his vision.

Something hard and sharp pressed against his neck.