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Starting from the edge of the grasslands, he continued the path he had made before. This time, instead of leaping on the boulders, he walked directly on the ground, making sure his heavy ukkur feet left deep and noticeable impressions in the dirt.
Despite all of their high-tech gadgets, the nith were a stupid lot. An ukkur would never fall for the trick that Hruk was playing, but he was confident the nith would take the bait.
He wove between the boulders, making an easily-followed set of tracks that led away from the hiding place where he had stashed the female.
Soon, Hruk heard the babbling sound of water. Within a few minutes, he came to a small gorge. It was little more than a gully really, with a small but suitable creek running down the middle.
Yes, this location would work nicely.
Hruk set to work.
First, he made a mess of the coarse sand beside the stream, kicking and clawing with his feet until it looked as if an intense struggle had taken place. Once he was satisfied, he dropped the female’s shredded garments haphazardly on the ground. To complete the illusion, he took the strands of hair he had cut from her head and sprinkled those on top.
Hruk stood, thoughtfully surveying the scene. There was only one element missing.
Blood.
The ukkur drew his stone knife from the sheath on his hip. His faithful weapon and tool. He studied the blade in the moonlight. Volcanic obsidian knapped to a razor-sharp edge. Even sharper than the steel blades manufactured by the nith.
Old Throlf had helped him fashion that very blade, back when Hruk was young and dumb and freshly escaped from the ksh farm where he’d been a slave.
Throlf, dead now for a full ten turnings. Dead because of Hruk’s curse.
Hruk shoved these thoughts back down into the dark recesses of his subconscious mind and focused on the task at hand. He inspected his forearm and selected a plump vein near the back of the wrist.
With a flick of the stone knife-tip, the vein opened, and Hruk’s blood spilled out. In the monochrome of the moonlit night, that blood appeared black. Black like the blood of a nith. But in the light of day that blood would be dark red.
Hruk had seen enough ukkur blood spilled to know its color. His own included.
Because he had cut a vein, the hot fluid spilled in great abundance. The air filled with its salty, rusted smell. Hruk let the blood flow, dribbling over the distressed sand and tattered clothing. He flung his arm back and forth, sending it all over the surrounding area. He kept at it until the whole scene was a bloody mess.
Before he started to get light-headed from blood loss, Hruk stripped off his loincloth and bound it around his arm above the wound to stop the bleeding. He stepped into the stream and washed his hand in the cool water, then he looked once more at the scene he had created.
It was far from perfect, but it would have to do.
When the nith found it, as they inevitably would, they would see the signs of a violent struggle, the human female’s tattered clothing and hair, and a large amount of red blood. If Hruk’s plan worked, the nith bastards would think that he had killed and eaten the human.
Of course, there were no bones, but there was nothing Hruk could do about that. And if the nith inspected the blood carefully, they would discover that it was ukkur blood, not human. But Hruk was counting on the nith’s carelessness to work in his favor. All their technological advancements had made the nith lazy and inattentive.
Hruk hoped he was right.
If the nith believed the human was dead, they would probably call off their search. He doubted they would attempt to track him, a lone ukkur, through the badlands. Not even to exact revenge for the nith he had killed.
But the human female was obviously important to them. After all, they had imprisoned her and kept her alive.
Now it was time to find out why.
Hruk splashed more water over his wound, and the clear water carried the blood downstream. His cut had already stopped bleeding, and the skin had begun to knit itself back together. Ukkur wounds healed quickly. By noon tomorrow, it would be just another scar in his already sizeable collection.
Hruk ran down the stream, using the water to mask his scent and hide his trail.
***
A little later, Hruk was back at the hiding place. He had utilized the same boulder-hopping method to avoid making tracks. All the way back, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the female.
Hruk’s heart was troubled.
He had overstepped his self-imposed boundaries, and now the human female was most certainly stained with his curse. As a matter of fact, that was probably the reason why she had ended up in such a dire situation in the first place.
