Steph's Outcast

I reach forward and grab her before she can hit the ground.

The female clings to my arm as she tries to find purchase with her feet, and her scrabbling forces me to take another step forward. I haul her up against me, pulling her upright, and her body brushes against mine.

She is…soft all over. This should not be surprising. I know from her appearance that she is soft. She wears thick furs all over her body. Of course she is soft. What is surprising is that she is warm against my skin. That she smells good this close, like smoke and skin and a fascinating female scent that I already want more of. She gazes up at me, and she barely reaches my shoulder.

But…I like her size. I like a lot of things about her. And my cock tightens in response.

Our eyes meet and she gives me another smile, reaching out and gently patting my chest as if to thank me for rescuing her. I want to keep holding her, but when she takes a step back, I suspect I must be the only one. My face grows hot with embarrassment at that. Of course she does not want to be touched by me. I am an Outcast. I am not a good male, and the beaches are full of males who still yearn for a mate.

She is an attractive female with an incredible scent. She could have any male she wishes. Of course she does not want my touch.

As she draws away, she makes a soft noise in her throat and gestures at the basket. As I watch, she sits down next to Pak and pulls something out. A boot, then another. She holds them out to me, and I see they are not sized for Pak, but for someone like me.

Almost all of the clothing gifts so far have been for Pak. It feels important that she brought these for me, that she made them for me. I do not know that I have ever had something just for me. Even the belt I wear, the stone knife I use, all of those once belonged to Nen. They have given us cloaks and tunics in the past, but those always smelled of others who had used them before us. These boots are new.

My feet will be the only feet in them.

The female—Steff—holds them up to me with a hopeful expression on her face. I take them with a grunt, since it seems rude to discard them like we have so many other gifts. I do not need them. My feet are strong and callused and grip far more easily than if I wear leather over them…but it does not mean I do not want them. I clutch them to my chest, breathing in her scent. It is all over them. I suspect she made them, and that…pleases me.

Greatly.

She smiles at me, happy that her gift is accepted, and reaches over to ruffle Pak's fuzzy mane. He grins up at her, his mouth full of dried fish. My stomach growls, loud enough for both of us to hear, and her expression grows contrite. She looks at me, worried, and back at the fish.

I hate my body for making me seem weak in front of her. With a growl, I gesture for Pak. It is time to go. Hunger can be ignored, and I do not want this female to feel as if we cannot take care of ourselves. The thought is shameful.

"Oh," she breathes, and rises to her feet as if to stop us. Her boots skid on the sand again.

Once more, I reach out and grasp her arm, helping her up. I did not realize how slick the beach was here, and it feels warm under my toes. I did not notice, because back home, the beach sands were always warm. The reddish creatures are far more concentrated here, and when I look down the shore, to the small village in the distance, everything looks tinged with red.

The elders warning rings in my ears. Frowning, I continue to grip her arm. I need to warn her.

I think for a minute and then gesture at the ground. She watches me, curious. I shake my head, indicating the sand is bad, and gesture at the distant hills. She needs to go there, to go into the mountains. Away from the water.

"Tellmehoutlowd," she breathes, her voice soft. "Iwill hunderstanchou. Haffatraslater." She taps her ear, then searches my face with her gaze. "Plees."

I shake my head at her. I do not speak her words. I gesture at the mountains again. She needs to leave the beach.

If she understands me, she does not show it. Instead, she puts her hand gently on my chest, over my heart. "Juth." My name is soft on her lips, almost a caress, and my cock responds again. Her fingers brush over my skin, and then she gestures at herself. "Steff."