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  Griss flexed his hands at his side, still rumbling deep in his chest. They were interrupted then by a playful yell from the forest.

  “Where are my males?”

  All of the males, except Troii and Drenz, straightened at the sound of that familiar voice. Griss and Brur relaxed, waiting patiently for their Queen’s arrival, but Kranu and Gron tensed, still a little afraid of their mother even as adults.

  “We are here, Gryla!” replied Brur, and Gron held his breath, waiting to see his mother again.

  Gryla rounded a large tree and spotted them. She was just how Gron remembered her, formidable, her fine mane shot through with grey. She froze when she saw Gron, then her eyes slid to Ruth’s small form tucked into his side and snarled viciously.

  “Gron!” she roared, and charged for the group. “You bring her here?!” Troii, Drenz and Kranu scattered, his Prime Fathers parting to let Gryla pass but ready to intervene. Gron had no choice but to stand his ground. He had to protect Ruth, and years of experience had taught him that running from his mother only made her angrier.

  Gron braced himself as his mother bore down on him, forcing Ruth behind him. He did it reflexively, though before he had met Ruth, opposing his mother would have been unthinkable. A male standing between Queens was the utmost stupidity, but Ruth could not fight his mother, would not survive an attack from her.

  At the last second, Gryla reined in her charge, choosing instead to tower over her son, seizing painful fistfuls of his pelt, growling ferociously.

  Brur put his hand on her arm, seeking to calm her. “Gryla, Kranu brought them here,” he explained.

  Gryla’s head whipped to the side, immediately locating her eldest son. “Is that right?” she demanded of him.

  Kranu cleared his throat, trying to pretend he wasn’t quaking. “I thought they should be brought before Grasta,” he said, his previous bravado stripped away. “I have doubts about the Queen’s safety with Gron.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? Are you her keeper, Kranu?” Gryla demanded. Gron wished she would release his pelt, but knew better than to ask.

  “She doesn’t understand our language, she can’t speak to us, or so Gron claims. She is also tiny. How do we know she is mature? How do we know she has chosen him? He does not wear her scent,” Kranu explained.

  Gryla rumbled and passed her nose over Gron’s chest and shoulders briefly, trying to smell Ruth on him. She then shoved him aside, peering down at Ruth.

  “You! Do you understand me? It would be best if you tell me now,” she ordered.

  Ruth looked panicked, her eyes flicking between Gron and the angry behemoth in front of her. Her arms were pulled protectively to her chest, and Gron willed her not to do anything to antagonise Gryla. Finally she wiggled her fingers and said something short. Gryla narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but didn’t seem affronted.

  “Where did you find her?” Gryla asked Gron.

  “I was taken, Mother. I was kept in a dark, hard hole. The ones who took me took Gruth as well, and threw her down to me. We were kept alone together for some time, until we escaped. Perhaps they wanted the Bond to form, but we did not mate until we were free again.” Gron left out that he had no idea how they had arrived home after being in that strange forest. “Kranu, Troii and Drenz found us in the forest and brought us here against our will. You know I would never do anything to go against you or Grasta. What would be the point in bringing Gruth here? She would never win a challenge for dominance.”

  “Perhaps she wants more males,” Gryla suggested absently, though the words tightened around Gron’s heart.

  “I would have no way of knowing if she did. We do not speak the same language,” he answered hollowly.

  Gryla grunted. “A strange tale indeed, my son. Captured against your will, forced to Bond with a tiny female with whom you cannot communicate, with no pelt and no tail. If it is true, I almost feel sorry for you,” she said.

  “I assure you, it is true,” Gron told her, his eyes and voice perfectly steady.

  “Well, let’s test it, shall we?” she said.

  A spike of apprehension shot through Gron. “How?”

  Gryla stepped towards him, but she spoke to Brur. “Brur, try to lead her away,” she commanded.

  “Gryla...”

  “Do it.”

  Trying to see past his mother, Gron saw Brur carefully approach Ruth and gently take her hand. He slowly pulled, indicating she should follow him. Ruth immediately looked to Gron, and he tried to keep his expression calm so that she would not be scared. She took a few hesitant steps after Brur, but the further away she got, the more agitated she became. She turned to Brur and pointed to Gron, but Brur ignored her, still calmly leading her away. At least it was not Griss, Gron thought. Griss would not be gentle if Ruth resisted.

  Ruth stopped, digging her heels into the soft, mulchy ground. She pointed to Gron again, and this time said his name, and he was proud of her demanding tone. Brur pulled on her hand again and she snatched it from his grasp.

  “Gron,” she ordered sternly, stabbing her finger at him in the air. She started walking back towards him, but Brur stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Now fear flickered in her eyes, and she looked back at Gron for some clue of what was happening, but he couldn’t give her one. She tried to shake of Brur’s hand off but he held tighter, using his other arm around her waist to start dragging her back.

  Now she fought in earnest. She snarled in her own language, scratching Brur’s arm and kicking his legs. She yelled for Gron, her eyes fixed on him, and her distress was making him very uncomfortable. He couldn’t take any more, it was his job to protect her. He tried to move past his mother, but she blocked his path easily with her larger frame, superior height and broad shoulders. He glanced at her face and found her watching him carefully.

  “Mother, it is enough now, she doesn’t understand what is happening,” he said, disturbed.

  “Brur will not hurt her, you know that,” Gryla replied calmly.

  Gron was not soothed. “She is distressed. She is calling me.” He tried to dodge round his mother again, and was blocked again. “Mother, let me past.”

  “Gryla, I wish to let her go,” Brur said, raising his voice over Ruth as he tried to catch her hands before they clawed his face.

  “Take her out of sight and maybe she will calm down,” Gryla suggested coldly. Brur grunted and lifted Ruth off her feet to carry her away and her snarls escalated to screams.

  Gron’s heart was pounding, his Queen’s distress calling him on a chemical level. “Let me go to her. She wants me,” he said, his agitation clear. He tried to push past his mother, his hands on her arm, but she seized him and braced her body against his. He had no hope of moving her in a contest of strength. “Why are you doing this?” he cried. If she did not let him past soon, he would have to fight her, an act that would break his heart.

  Ruth had noticed his distress, and the fact that they were being deliberately separated, and she twisted in Brur’s arms to attack him directly. They had drawn a crowd, none of whom had more authority than Gryla, who they would not challenge. Only an adolescent male stepped forward, Mruin, Gron’s younger brother.

  “Mother, what’s happening? What has Gron done?” he cried. The poor boy’s allegiance was clearly torn, watching his mother detain his brother while another brother watched, and one of his fathers wrestled with a strange Queen he should never be touching.

  A deafening roar shook the air and they all froze. Grasta thumped to the ground in the middle of them, her weight enough to tremble the earth. She pulled herself up to her full height and announced “If there is any fighting to be done in this tribe, it shall be done by me!”

  Brur quickly released Ruth who raced to Gron’s side. He gathered her against him and drew her away from Gryla, stoking her hair and brushing his lips against her face as she locked her arms around his neck.

  “Gryla, what is going on here?” Grasta demanded. The Alpha Queen was the tall
est of all the tribe, standing almost a head taller than Gryla, and a full head and shoulders taller than Gron. Her pelt covered most of her body, which was thick with muscle, her chest and shoulders broad, her limbs perfect weapons.

  “Grasta, my foolish sons have brought another Queen here. Kranu is disputing Gron’s claim that he has Bonded to her,” Gryla replied, deferring to Grasta’s superiority. “I should have had more daughters,” she added, throwing dark looks at her sons.

  “And what does she say?”

  “It appears she does not understand us and cannot speak our language.”

  Grasta turned her head to stare down at Brur. “Did I see one of your males with his hands on her?” she asked Gryla.

  “On my orders, Grasta. I was separating them, to see if they are truly Bonded.”

  “And, what was your conclusion?”

  “They reacted badly to it.”

  Grasta looked at Gron and Ruth where they stood entwined. “They certainly look Bonded to me.” A frustrated look crossed her face and she waved it away. “I will hear more of this, but we will sit down and eat. If there is some disagreement, let the tribe know of it. We will have a feast tonight, everyone!” She looked pointedly at Gryla. “Peace until then,” she ordered.

  The crowd began to disperse to gather food for the feast, and to avoid their Queen’s ire.

  “Gron,” Grasta called. “You may take your Queen to your platform, but do not leave the village. I require your presence at the feast, where you will explain your actions to me.”

  Gron nodded. He was grateful for this moment’s calm. No one more would challenge him or Ruth, it was in Grasta’s hands now. No one else could fight them or make demands without disobeying their Queen.

  He picked Ruth up and manoeuvred her onto his back like he had in that strange forest where they had struggled to survive. She clung on almost gratefully, and he leapt them into the trees, hoping his old platform was as he had left it.

  Chapter 3

  Ruth hung on tight as Gron bounded into the trees. She was glad to see that his strength didn’t seem to have suffered from being poisoned and sedated for so long. She nuzzled her nose into the hair and fur at the back of his neck and inhaled gratefully. He was alive. They both were, which seemed to have been a close thing a few minutes ago. Ever since the others of his kind had emerged from the forest, she had been scared. She knew she would probably meet other Gandry, some of whom would probably know Gron, but she hadn’t expected the hostile reception they had got.

  These Gandry knew Gron, were evidently his tribe, as everyone they had come across had used his name. She had heard her name being given out as well. But Gron had never relaxed around them and she wondered why. Wasn’t he happy to be back with his family? Apparently it wasn’t a good thing, since that first male to talk to them had quickly provoked Gron into a snarling match until one of the others had stepped between them. So she took it that fighting wasn’t encouraged, at least. She didn’t have to worry about being thrown into an arena like she had in the cell.

  She hadn’t missed the way they stared at her though. It was stupid, but she hadn’t realised she would find herself very suddenly in a minority of one. All her time with Gron so far, they’d both been aliens together, with a third, common enemy. Now she was the only alien, and she didn’t know who to trust.

  She couldn’t understand a single word that was being said, but they sure felt free to chat it out about her. She’d been stared at, sneered at, bowed to, ignored, had her hand held, and been forcibly restrained. She got that females seemed to be scarce, only two of the maybe two-dozen people she’d seen had been female, and that she didn’t look like them, but damn. If they could make up their mind at least whether to be nice to her or not, that would be great.

  And everyone was naked. So many dicks everywhere. She was used to Gron, she liked looking at him, but it was bizarre to watch these people have apparently very serious discussions with their junk hanging out. Ruth didn’t know where to put her eyes. She’d also noticed that not everyone had the same fur. It was all basically the same shade of dark brown, except where it had greyed apparently with age, but the patterns were different. Some people had more, some had less, some had strips of it, some had patches, some had bare chests and covered stomachs, some only had it on their lower arms and legs. Everyone had a furry tail though. Ruth was glad she wasn’t naked, even if she was the only one. Her wrapped toga gave her a lot more confidence than she would otherwise have had.

  Gron seemed to be getting the same mixed reception that she was. Ruth had been terrified when that female had charged him. Their whole time here had been nuts, and she had no idea what was going on. All she knew was that everyone had left, including them, when that ginormous female had turned up. That woman had to be close to eight feet tall, broad as a barn door, with barely any of her body not covered in fur. The gorilla-look was even stronger in her, except that she stood so straight. She was evidently the leader, the alpha female, like T’Lax had warned her. Ruth hoped their business with her was done.

  She hadn’t figured out how everyone related to each other yet, who was friend, who was foe, who was family. She had no idea where they were headed now. She had to put everything in Gron’s hands, and she didn’t like it very much. It made her feel a little better about talking to T’Lax and not being able to tell Gron how they got back to his planet though. She’d never thought about them having secrets before, as she wasn’t wilfully keeping anything from him, she just couldn’t tell him. Now she realised their whole lives were, and would be, secret... and that didn’t seem like a very good foundation for a relationship.

  Gron stopped on one of the large branch-platforms she’d noticed. Their village felt like a city; it certainly had skyscrapers. Intellectually she knew, or rather hoped, that the platform would take her weight. These people lived on these things, and every Gandry had to weigh at least twice as much as she did. She was still seriously uneasy standing on one. The Gandry could climb trees and had tails for holding on. She’d probably get killed by a branch on her way down if she fell, it was so high up she wouldn’t even get the chance to hit the ground.

  This must be what Gron had tried to build their first night after the cell. It was made out of branches that had been bent and woven together, with the large hard leaves stuck together and laid over the top to form a floor. It was surprisingly flat and steady, it didn’t seem to make a difference where she placed her foot, which was good. She took a few steps and looked around as Gron watched her, then he began examining the items that had been pushed towards the trunk of the massive tree. The platform was bigger than the floor of her bedroom back home, but it was just a floor, no walls and no ceiling. Ruth looked up but couldn’t see much of the sky. It looked like the higher foliage and platforms would block most of the weather.

  Ruth followed Gron to the trunk of the massive tree, where he was digging through a collection of... stuff. She couldn’t tell what any of it was, not definitively. Most of it was made of it sticks that had been tied together. She didn’t see anything that suggested the Gandry used animal skins for anything. Well, she still had her backpack, and she was suddenly very attached to it. Everything around them made sense to Gron but mystified her. Everything in the backpack made sense to her but would mystify him. She smiled as she gently put it next to what she assumed was his stuff, or at least guest-stuff. Maybe this was the Gandry equivalent of a hotel room.

  Then she put her hand on his arm. Other than their joyful kisses when he had realised they were home, she felt like they hadn’t really had a proper moment to get reacquainted. Of course, as far as he knew, they’d been making love in that cave last night, but for her it had been something like two weeks since she had lain happily in his arms. It wasn’t the time that bothered her now, Lord knows she’d gone much longer than two weeks without sex before, but that she’d watched him almost slip away in her arms, and that he’d spent two weeks unconscious in a hospital bed. He seemed to be fully r
ecovered, but she wanted to feel it.

  Gron looked up at her touch, and she stroked her hand down the furry stripe on the outside of his arm. He stood up slowly and faced her. She smiled and reached up to touch his face, stroking over his brow, cheekbones, nose, lips. He hung his head to let her, those dark eyes, which were an unplaceable shade somewhere between charcoal and chocolate, watching her with open concern.

  She sighed. There was so much she could say to him, but what would it matter? In the end she settled for, “I’m glad you’re alive. So glad.”

  He rumbled in his chest in reply and stepped closer, his arms going around her. She went up on her tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing herself down the length of his body, and kissed him. She hadn’t meant to kiss him as hard as she did, but she found herself gripping his hair desperately, her fingers scratching at the back of his neck. She felt his warm, fluffy, and surprisingly heavy tail drape across her hips and she moaned approvingly. She loved her strange, furry, giant, alien man, tail and all. If it had just been them in this treetop world, she would have been blissfully happy.

  She pulled her hands down his neck, over his chest, the fur on his shoulders, what she could reach of the fur on his spine. She felt his dick start to get interested and reluctantly pulled away. Not that she didn’t want to watch his face as she licked his tail and find out if he was strong enough to hold her up and fuck her against the tree trunk, but it still felt a bit early in the day, and a bit exposed on this platform. She hadn’t seen any neighbours, but in this leafy labyrinth, that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

  Instead she stayed in the supporting circle of his arms, her hands resting on his furry chest, and stared up into his face.

  “Are we going to be okay here?” she asked. He, of course, didn’t say anything, but something of what she felt must have shown in her face because he bent down and nuzzled against her cheek, murmuring something she didn’t understand. It was comforting, but not reassuring. It meant a lot to her that he still cared about her, but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t a problem. She sighed. “Take care of me, alright?” she told him.