Primal Instinct - 1. Chapter 1

The man crouched low to the damp earth and touched the small indentation. The track was fresh, only minutes old. He rose and continued down the path that was invisible to those less observant. His bare feet made no noise as he stealthily walked forward, trailing his hands along the occasional broken piece of vegetation marking his quarry’s path. He heard a twig snap and stopped, listening intently. After a brief period of silence, he slowly crept forward to a small stand of shrubs and peered through them. He held his spear close, ready to fly at a moment’s notice. He held his breath as he spied the small deer he’d been tracking for hours. The little animal was at a bad angle; if he threw his spear now, he would surely miss. He waited with the patience of a skilled hunter as the creature grazed in the small clearing. The animal turned toward him, providing the perfect opportunity for the hunter to strike. The spear sailed noiselessly through the air and found its mark unerringly. The little deer staggered forward and collapsed.

The man was upon the deer in seconds, eviscerating it with a sharpened stone and eating the warm liver and kidneys before other predators could scent the kill and drive him off. The deer was lean, but there was enough meat to last for days. He proceeded to expertly butcher the animal, then stopped abruptly. The ambient noise of the forest had changed. He continued with his task, on even higher alert now, cutting the meat as quickly as he could and placing it on a worn skin.

The man jumped up and raised his spear as the bushes directly across the small clearing rustled and parted, allowing another man to enter the tight space. The man was smaller than the hunter and very thin. His right leg dragged behind him, and he looked at the hunter with a mixture of fear and desperation. He was dressed in thin skins, not the thick fur that the temperature demanded, and shivered as he stood in place, hands outstretched in a supplicating manner.

The hunter frowned and motioned with his spear as if to throw it; however he retained his grip. The other man tried to duck away, but his lame leg gave out, and he fell with a pained grunt. The hunter decided the smaller man posed no threat and resumed butchering the deer. He could pick the bones if the predators didn’t get him first. A breeze blew through the clearing, causing the smaller man to shiver violently. The hunter’s eyes widened in fear—an emotion he seldom felt—and he backed away from his kill, grabbing his spear. The scent evoked memories of heat and lust and searing pain. He involuntarily raised his hand to the rough, scarred skin on the left side of his face as the unmistakable scent filled his consciousness. Mate!

It had been many autumns since the hunter last encountered that smell. He lived with the tribe then. When the other young men hit puberty, they quickly found unbound females and mated with them with abandon. The dark-haired young hunter would watch in fascination as the male’s engorged members slid in and out of the young females. One of the females tried to get him to do the same thing to her, but his body didn’t react the same way as the other males. She quickly grew bored and frustrated with him, leaving to find someone who could satisfy her urges.

The tribe’s elders were not pleased with the young man, as soon he was the only unmated male in a tribe with an overabundance of females. He was an excellent hunter, though, and useful to the tribe in other ways, so they allowed him to remain.

During the following dry season, the group of hunters had travelled far for a kill. It was worth it, as the meat from the mammoth would last the tribe for weeks. The young hunter had been instrumental in the hunt and delivered the killing blow. The hunters were jubilant and offered him the heart of the beast, which he happily consumed. After the butchering was completed, the group moved to a clearing in the woods to spend the night before heading home. The dark-haired youth grinned cockily as he approached a nearby spring to quench his thirst and bathe. He stopped dead as an unfamiliar scent washed over him, causing a physical reaction he had not previously experienced. The source of the scent was crouched at the edge of the spring, drinking the cool, refreshing water. Even though they had no spoken language, and therefore no word for what he was feeling, the message was clear. Mate!

Acting purely on instinct, the young hunter strode over to the man by the pool, his erection leading the way. He knelt next to the man and reached for his dick with one hand as his other caressed the man’s ass, his finger briefly flitting over the most intimate of places. The other man’s eyes widened in shock, and he grabbed a stone, smashing it against the dark-haired hunter’s head. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

The young hunter awoke the next morning with a splitting headache. He sat up groggily and felt the blood that crusted his face from the gaping head wound. He crawled to the spring and drank deeply before plunging his head into the cool water, cleaning away the dried blood. He stood up, and after a brief moment of dizziness, managed to make his way to the clearing where the hunters spent the night. There was no trace of them.

The young man knew the way home, however, and two days later he arrived at the cluster of caves during the middle of the great feast celebrating the hunters’ return. Silence descended upon the tribe as the young man entered the celebratory circle. The man from the spring grew white upon the sight of the dark-haired youth he was sure he’d killed. Through gestures he indicated to the tribe the events that happened at the spring. When the young hunter didn’t deny them, the tribe leader picked up a branch and set it in the fire. He gestured for the young man to come close. The naïve youth realized too late what the leader had in mind, and his screams echoed throughout the forest as the hot brand seared the side of his face. He ran into the forest and never attempted to return.

The hunter turned and ran away from the crippled man in the clearing, heading toward the cave he’d lived in since spring. He entered the small cave cautiously, then lowered his spear when he determined it was clear. He lay down on a pile of furs, burrowing deeply. Sleep eluded him. The scent of the crippled man remained strong and provoked a physical response he hadn’t experienced since that fateful night at the spring. He touched his erection and gasped at the sensations that coursed through his body. He wrapped his hand around it, and the movement caused him to cry out in ecstasy as white fluid spurted all over his hairy chest. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, remembering the other man’s scent and the sensations he’d just experienced.

Hours later he sat bolt upright, grabbing his spear. His attention was drawn to the mouth of the cave as he heard a slow scraping sound steadily approaching. He raised the weapon, preparing to throw it when the strong scent hit his nostrils, causing him to pause and then lower it. The man from the clearing hobbled closer, hands outstretched. He set something down on the ground, backed away, sat, and waited.

The hunter approached warily. He flicked open the skin with the tip of his spear, finding the meat he’d left behind when he fled the other man’s presence. The scent of the other man overwhelmed the hunter. His body physically responded, but he also felt other emotions he couldn’t make sense of.

A low growl drew their attention to the mouth of the cave. A small tiger prowled toward them, drawn by the scent of the meat and the crippled human who would be easy prey. The tiger leapt toward the smaller man. The hunter threw his spear. Through a combination of skill and blind luck, the spear entered through the tiger’s eye, felling it immediately. The hunter was instantly upon it, twisting its thick neck with a sickening crunch. His first thought was of the smaller man cowering on the ground. He knelt by the man’s side and gently touched his shoulder. The fear in the man’s eyes evoked a response foreign to the dark-haired hunter. He would’ve given his life to protect the man with the intoxicating scent. The smaller man let out a soft cry and embraced the larger hunter, burrowing his face into the man’s furry chest.

The hunter realized they could no longer stay there. The scent of the slain tiger would attract more predators. He retrieved his sharpened stone and butchered as much meat as he could carry, adding it to the skin containing the venison. He walked over to his pile of furs and handed them to the shivering smaller man, who donned them gratefully. The hunter held out his hand and helped the crippled man to his feet. He bent down and gestured for the other man to get on his back. The hunter’s burdens were heavy, but his heart was light, as he carried his mate, their supplies, and his weapons out of the cave in search of new shelter for them both.