Page 18 of Meat

He crossed the campsite to where the skriks were tied, and patted the beasts of burden on their scaly rumps, whispering soothing words.

On the ground nearby were boxes and bags. Through these Krogg rummaged, digging through his cooking supplies. Dried maerk beans, stshoa flour, haran fruit. At last he found what he was looking for—a clay jar of salve made from several dozen different wild herbs and other ingredients. The recipe had been passed down to him by his teacher, Kharn, the cook in Krogg’s first gang.

Not long after, Jale returned from the river.

The animal was slung over his shoulder, dripping wet from its bath. When he set it down upon its feet, the creature’s legs seemed unsteady. Its face and chest were flushed. The nubs on its chest were hard.

Jale had done more than washing, rot him.

“Sit,” Krogg commanded the animal, and gestured to the log seat.

The animal didn’t understand the word, but it understood the intention and sat down. It shivered with fear in its bright eyes.

Krogg knelt. He extended the little legs, inspecting one and then the other. Jale had done a thorough job of washing the wounds at least. Good lad.

But plain water would not be enough to protect against infection. That was what the salve was for. Krogg opened the jar and took some of it on two fingers.

“This will sting.”

“What are you talking to it for?” Ravnar said through a mouthful of raw meat. “It can’t understand a rotted thing.”

“I’m not talking to it. I’m talking to myself. It helps me think.”

He held one leg steady and started to apply the salve to it. The animal hissed between its clenched teeth at first, but it seemed to understand that Krogg did not want to harm it.

Not yet.

When the time did come for that, Krogg would make sure it was quick and painless.

But before that happened, they would need to fatten this creature up considerably. No point in dining on lean meat. Besides, they had plenty of extra food to spare. Plenty of ksh for feeding the skriks.

Once he was finished applying the salve, Krogg rose, and with his own knife, he sliced off a bloody strip of meat from the skinned krelk. He offered the dripping morsel to the little animal.

It cringed away in disgust.

“So, not a carnivore then. Should have known by those blunt little teeth.”

“They’re not that blunt,” Ravnar grunted. “Trust me.”

“Some of them are sharp,” Jale added. “That one. And that one there.” He pointed at the creature’s grimacing mouth, and it looked at him in confusion.

Krogg shook his head.

“No, this one’s not interested in meat,” he grumbled. “Let’s try something different. Something with plenty of ksh to fatten it up nice and quick.”

He went back to his supplies and rummaged so more.

CHAPTER 8

While the one with the beard rummaged through the boxes of supplies, the one with the mohawk, the one who had washed Alyx in the river, came and stooped beside her and looked her in the eye.

She shivered under the intensity of that glare.

This one was definitely younger. Alyx could tell by the smoothness in his features and the leanness of his frame compared to his companions. Nevertheless, his back and shoulders were heavily etched with scars, and his eyes glinted with a predator’s instincts.

He might be young, but he had lived a hard life.

His finger tapped his chest.