I flip back the lid of the small wooden box, pinch a wriggling sowgrub, and stuff the fluffy thing straight down Gruffin’s gob. Only for him to spit it out with a pointed flick of his forked tongue.
“You little mite. Now’s not the time to be fussy.”
I try a smaller one, which proves to be easier for him to eject. The third try, Gruffin strikes before I even drop the grub and barely misses my fucking finger.
“Dammit. Maell lasted on these until her pin feathers had completely bloomed.” I gather all the runaway grubs and stash them in the box while Gruffin watches me—head up but wobbling about. Looking like he’s brewing another piercing warble. “He’s probably hankering for something more like what his parents would’ve brought him in the wild. Something bloody.”
“I can help with that.”
I look back at Essi seated on the stairs with her shirt pulled over her knees, her long red hair making it look like she’s caught in a flame. “Really?”
She nods. “Stay here.”
Turning, she flits up the stairs like she’s made of air. I can barely make out her footsteps once she’s in the livingsuite, though I do hear the trapdoor snap shut.
Twice.
When she appears again, dashing down the stairs, the last thing I expect to see is a fluffy white crowl leg dangling from her bloody fist, strips of meat frayed around the pale ball of bone. Like it was only just dislocated and torn from the hip of a freshly slain beast, without the use ofanyblade. At all.
All the warmth drops from my face. “You just had that lying around?”
Last time my voice squeaked like that, I was pubescent.
Her cheeks flush almost the same color as her hair.
She dips her chin and scratches her brow with her non-bloody hand, peeking up at me for only a split moment. Like she’s shy. “You never know when a fresh carcass will come in handy.”
Right.
Not weird at all.
I accept the leg. Use Grihm’s blade to slice bits of bloody flesh from around the ball and drop them into the little beast’s wide-open maw.
Gruffin gobbles them down and immediately opens for more.
“Well, that works.” I cut off more strips that I barely get a chance to dangle before they’re snatched with growing gusto. I frown. “A bittoowell, actually.”
I keep cutting—faster. Getting less and less careful with the shape and size of my strips, realizing it doesn’t really matter. The fucker’s gonna choke it back anyway.
Although Moltenmaws aren’t known for overeating, I start to doubt that logic as Gruffin clambers out of the nest. Wobbly but keen-eyed, he prowls toward the fleshy leg—tail flicking like a limp whip.
“Shit me. Hold on, you’re not supposed to be walking yet,” I rush out, forced to slit the shin open and access the strips of muscle when he starts trembling all over. Something Moltenmaws typically do when they’re about to stab you with their tail prong. “Fuck.”
I toss the blade aside and rip into the meat with my bare hands, finding it just a touch faster. Likely the difference between keeping my fingers andnot.
Beads of sweat gather on my brow when I reach the bone, scraping off the tattered dregs with my fingernails. I wave the final scavenged mouthful over his head—
His eyelids droop.
He makes a soft trilling sound and clambers back into the makeshift nest, does a wobbly spin that drags his lengthy tail into the bowl, tucks his head beneath his fluffy blue wing, and goes still, aside from his deep, slumbering breaths.
I release the biggest sigh of my life, letting the last bit of meat slop to the ground. “Thank fuck,” I say, falling back on my ass, looking at what’s left of the ravaged loin. Then up to where Essi’s crouched, watching through wide eyes. “Thanks for the meat. Pretty sure you just saved my life.”
“You’re welcome. I—” A shyness sweetens her features. “I really like how you treat him. Like he’s your own.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty sure he wants to eat me.”
Another warm smile.
