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  His heart raced as he looked up into the face of a she-giant. Whatever she had poured on his chest was bubbling like Winter Woman's cauldron. He looked quickly from side to side to find an escape route when it occurred to him that whatever she had poured on his chest didn't hurt. Or rather, it hurt no more than the cuts he'd suffered from the cat. What was she doing?

  He looked her squarely in the eyes, but whether he was ready to die or not, he wasn't sure. He only felt profoundly defiant. She might be big, but he wasn't going to give up without a struggle. His hand slipped to his belt, then to his knife. She was so confident she hadn't bothered to disarm him. The obsidian blade was small, but the edge was sharp. Big as she was, he could make her feel pain.

  Staggering to his feet, he waved the knife, daring her to make a move. Instead, she merely smiled. She made soothing sounds, like those a mother shared with an infant. She spoke softly. Calmly. He had no idea what she was saying, save that it wasn't threatening.

  He stepped back, surprised at the give in the surface beneath him. Springy, and soft, at the same time. Extremely odd.

  The she-giant hadn't moved, though her expression changed. She looked concerned and had fallen silent.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  She looked at him quizzically but made no answer, so he repeated the question.

  "I am Mato," he said, lightly touching his chest. "Mato. Hunter. Stalker of beasts, and dreams."

  "Mato," she repeated.

  He nodded up and down. "Mato. Mato! Who are you?"

  She tapped her own chest and said, "Tori."

  Stupid name, he thought. What was a tory? It made no sense. He glanced at the central wall of the cabin and down at the remains of a wood fire. Sitting, he edged toward it, careful not to fall from his perch. When he could go no further without dropping to the floor, he paused. Digging his fingers into the fabric covering the platform, he lowered himself to the floor.

  The pain which accompanied his short climb nearly caused him to black out again. The she-giant watched him, her expression of concern deepening when he straightened and groaned.

  She reached toward him with something white and fluffy smashed between her thumb and index finger. When he backed away, she stopped and pretended to use the ball of fluff on her own chest. Then she pointed at him and dropped the ball at his feet. Suddenly it dawned on him that she meant to stop his bleeding. Since he had no spider silk handy, he reached for the fluffy thing with both hands and used it to blot the blood on his chest.

  Again she spoke to him, her voice soft, low and reassuring. She pushed another of the fluffy wads toward his chest. This time, he held his ground and let her clean his wounds. She was strangely gentle, her touch far from what he expected of a giant, though in truth, this was the first one he'd ever met face-to-face. Still, the treatment was not without discomfort. He tried not to show his pain, but a groan escaped his lips from time to time despite his best efforts.

  Each time, she pulled her hand away and frowned. Still weak, he lowered himself to the floor and leaned back against one of the wooden supports that held up the platform, which he surmised was what she slept on. Soft and springy. Truly a marvel.

  She turned away for a moment and removed something from the box at her side: a glass bottle. Though similar to other such containers the giants often left behind when traveling through The People's land, this one was smaller and darker. The giant removed a white covering from the end of it and extracted another soft, round, fluffy thing, only this one was wet with an orange fluid. It had a strong smell, almost as bad as some of the potions Winter Woman made. He held his arms straight out as if to ward the giant away.

  She paused, and smiled again, murmuring more soft, unintelligible words. If not for her gentle eyes and patient approach, he would have tried to escape rather than allow her to apply her medicine. The giants knew many secrets and had many machines. What chance did he have on his own? He lowered his arms.

  She dabbed the liquid on his open wounds. There was a short, sharp sting all along the cuts, and he gasped in surprise before he could stop himself. But the pain quickly subsided.

  "Mato," she said, and then added something he couldn't understand. When he didn't react, she pretended to lift something from the floor. It dawned on him that she wanted to return him to the platform where it would be easier for her to treat him. When he nodded his assent, she gently lifted him in both massive hands and carefully lowered him to the same spot as before. She then went back to the box at her side and produced a length of thin, white cloth. She wrapped his torso with the white strips and then secured them with a shorter piece of sticky, white material.

  When she was done, he lowered his arms. He still held the knife, and smiled sheepishly at her as he put it back in his belt. "Mato thanks you," he said, formally.

  She smiled and said something in response. Though he'd never heard such words, he felt certain he knew what she meant.

  He lay back on the sleeping platform as she stood and collected her healing kit and cleaned up after him. He watched as she produced a huge rectangle of cloth which she folded in half twice and placed on the floor in front of the fire pit. She then pointed at him and gestured toward the cloth. Now they both had something to sleep on. When he struggled to sit up, she hurried to him and gently carried him to his sleeping mat.

  Where was the cat, he wondered, wishing he knew something of the she-giant's tongue. It was painfully obvious she couldn't understand his words. Moving slowly, he approached the fire pit and extracted a length of partially burnt kindling. She watched intently as he sketched a cat on the hearth, then set the stick aside and shrugged at her.

  Again she smiled, and pointed at the door. Then as if to be sure he understood, she acted out the process of grabbing the beast and throwing it outside. Mato laughed. Briefly, because it hurt. They both settled for smiles of understanding.

  ~*~

  A Little Primitive and the sequel, A Little More Primitive, are available now in both ebook and paperback formats from all the usual on-line retailers.