Page 39
After several more seconds of thinking, a number finally comes to me. “Sixty.”
The human makes a strangled noise before dragging a hand down his face. “Fucking hell, seriously?”
I do not understand why this knowledge is upsetting. The old healer had wandered into the cave with a rifle and tried to kill me. I was hungry. It had been a harsh winter full of disease; many livestock had died off. These things happen.
“What even are you?” he asks quietly. Then, despite himself, a small… laugh escapes his lungs.
My ears twitch in surprise. I have heard him scream, and cry, and curse but until now, he has not laughed. It is a musical sound. That odd warmth returns to my chest.
“This is all just a dream,” he murmurs, sinking lower into the spring with his eyes closed. “A really bad nightmare.”
When he opens them again, they look cloudy. His scent has changed, the sharp edge of fear dulled by fatigue and pain. I do not like it.
“You must rest.”
That makes him snort. “Sure. Right after I schedule an appointment with the doctor you ate sixty years ago.”
Humans are exceedingly difficult creatures. Why has this one caught my attention?
Annoyance claws at my chest as I point to the wound on his leg. “You leak too much. It needs cleaning.”
“Why do you even care?”
I tilt my head, considering my answer. Logically, I should not care, and yet I do. Knowing that he is hurt and in danger of dying frustrates me to no end. Not at him, but at the wounds he refuses to let me clean. At the humans who did this to him, which he will not let me eat. “I… do not know.”
My human studies me for a short second, forehead creased in confusion. “Why am I here?”
Finally, an easy question. “You fell into the mountain.”
“No, that's not…” Trailing off, he sits higher in the water until rivulets drip down his chest. “What exactly do you plan on doing with me?”
“Plan?” My gaze catches slightly on the way his small nipples harden against the cavern air. Something about their soft, pink appearance makes me feel… uncertain. Uncomfortable. I am not quite sure what the emotion is, but it has me shooting to my feet.
“Yes, plan,” he demands. “Why are you worried about my injuries? Are you gonna eat me?”
I huff out a no as I stalk to the entrance of my den, where a moose carcass lies stiff in the tunnel. When I hold it up and turn around, my human watches with wide eyes. “You eat?”
He opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Repeats the movement. “Was that out there the whole time?” At my nod, an adorable growl rolls off his tongue. “Then why the fuck didn't you start with that instead of my fucking uncle?”
So many humans use that word when they are upset. Fuck. I am beginning to suspect it is some form of insult. “Eat or no?”
“I… I guess,” he mutters, frowning. “I've never actually had moose before, but I'd imagine it's a lot like deer.”
“Then eat,” I grunt, tossing the carcass onto the ground. “Heal.”
He inhales sharply before sputtering out a cough. “I can't eat it raw, what the hell's the matter with you?!”
Irritation simmers beneath my skin. “Why?”
“Because humans can't eat raw meat. It makes us sick.”
“You said you eat.”
“Yes, but not uncooked. We like… bake it or sear it on the stove—”
“So you do not eat then?”
He slaps the water with both hands. “I just said we do, but you have to put it over a fire—”
