Page 10 of Meat

There was another nub there, similar to the ones on the creature’s chest but also different. This one was smooth and pearly, protected by a thin hood of flesh.

In his feral excitement, Ravnar nipped at that bud a little too hard.

From down below there came a sharp yelp of pain.

The creature was awake.

Ravnar drew his face back from the animal’s sloppy wet crotch and dragged the back of his hand across his moistened jaw. He was shocked at the way he had totally forgotten himself, totally neglected his surroundings.

He had been totally in the thrall of that delicious flavor.

Frenzied. Crazed.

Ravnar was just about to take a step back when he felt a sharp sting on his upper thigh.

He pulled away with a grunt and looked down at the source of the pain. Two little red half moons imprinted into his flesh.

The feisty little critter had bitten him.

It had actually bitten him.

The animal was fully awake now, its face red and verging on purple from hanging upside down. Those delicate lips were peeled back in a snarl, exposing twin rows of perfect white teeth. That little mouth growled and barked and issued all sorts of weird sounds, some of which might have been words, though Ravnar couldn’t understand them.

But there was one thing he did understand.

The defiant little beast had bitten him, and that transgression would not go unpunished.

Ravnar drew his knife from the hide sheath on his hip. The smooth handle had been fashioned from a t’vik antler. The blade was of knapped flint, attached with taut, rawhide cordage. The sharp edges caught the light, glinted.

The hanging creature’s eyes went wide with terror.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you,” Ravnar snorted. “Not yet, anyway. Krogg and Jale will want your meat fresh. For now, I’m just going to teach you a lesson, understand?”

The creature plainly did not understand.

This thing hanging by its ankle was just some dumb beast. But perhaps even beasts could be taught a lesson.

Ravnar reached up and cut the rope with a quick motion of his blade. One swift stroke was all it took. He had made the cut above his grip, and now the trapped animal dangled from the remaining bit of rope in Ravnar’s fist.

He sheathed his knife and set the creature down on the leaf-strewn forest floor.

Immediately, the frightened animal tried to bolt, but Ravnar was ready for this. Before the little critter could get its footing, he tackled it, crushing its small naked body beneath his weight.

“Not so fast,” he breathed into its ear.

The animal whimpered, uncomprehending.

After a moment, that fearful whimper transitioned into an angry snarl. The small mouth opened, and the little white teeth clamped down on Ravnar’s forearm.

This time he was prepared for the bite, prepared for the sudden sting of tooth on skin.

He’d had worse. That bite wouldn’t even leave a scar.

After a moment, the animal released its bite, and when it did, Ravnar sat up, dragging the creature with him. He grabbed the creature by its throat and held it at arm’s length.

That throat felt so small and fragile in his fingers. One hard squeeze was all it would take to crush the life out of this animal. But Ravnar didn’t want to kill it.

Not yet.