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SEITH
Finding a healer in the lycan lands is like finding a lycan mate. Nearly impossible. But as luck would have it, Lenox killed some of the leaders of the Kilseleian clans and issued a hunt for their followers and families, who then fled his turf and, having no other place to go, ended up in my territory, begging me for shelter.
I would have returned them because I need no more mouths to feed, but some of the females lay with my males. Since pussy is scarce and sex helps maintain the health of a lycan male, the clan went into an uproar when I wanted to expel the Kilseleians, who arrived after Lenox returned with the princess.
At first, the Kilseleians running from the McMar clan lands settled in villages at the lower altitudes, but when the floods came, they moved up, closer to us. So that’s where I went to ask for a healer, and their leader sent me back with a thirty-something-year-old female of questionable healing capabilities.
As we make our way up the mountain, she moves at her own slow pace. I’m tempted to drag her along, but that would mean her scent would rub off on me, and I’d have to bathe now. I bathe in the morning and not at night since the nights are brutally cold, even for me.
“Hurry up,” I bite out, thinking that the breeder might already have keeled over and died. It took me most of the morning and the better part of the afternoon to find this female. She ran errands all span long while I waited in a hut with her leader and the healer’s two girls who occupied my time with their wooden dolls.
I like children. They make me want to cuddle and protect them, something I don’t get to do often enough. I live among lycan males, after all. They need no coddling, and most of them need no protection either.
The female’s practically running now, but stops and bends over, vomiting as we emerge into the village clearing.
“Great. You’re sick too.”
She wipes her mouth with the back of her leather glove and shakes her head. “Haven’t eaten much is all.”
“What’s that have to do with puking?”
“My belly is empty.”
“We hunt, not puke, when we’re hungry.” I understand nothing about Kilseleian health or the lack thereof, but she does, and that’s all that matters. I jerk my head toward the breeder’s hut. “This way.” Dutifully, the female follows but halts as we near the hut.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“Why the gathering?”
I see the moment she spots all the food the males brought for the breeder because she pulls her ragged gray coat tighter around her thin body, and the breeze ruffles her wispy ginger hair as she lifts her nose to inhale the scent of food. She swallows.
I know what hunger looks like. I’ve been hungry too. We all have. During the wars with the McMars when they cut off our supplies or blocked the roads, some of us died of starvation.
And yet we continued warring.
“They’re bringing a meal for the female.”
“I didn’t know you brought females food.”
“We don’t unless we’re courting her.”
The wheels are spinning in her head. She’s a single mom, working somewhere I have no idea where, and with two little girls to feed.
“Heal the Kilseleian female, and I’ll send you back with food.”
“That sounds like a one-time deal.”
“I don’t have time to negotiate right now. Get on with it.”
“Make time,” she snaps, and when I level her with a look, she drops her head. “I ask for my girls not for me.”
“We’ll talk about it inside. Let’s go.” I start walking, and the female catches up with me then wraps her fingers around my wrist, letting me know she’s nervous. Fine, I’ll guide her inside.
The breeder attracted quite a crowd. There’re at least thirty males at her door, carrying all sorts of fresh catches, and I’m wondering how come they caught so much in such a short time. I guess pussy motivation is a thing in my clan. “If you were a breeder,” I tell the healer, “we’d feed you until you vomited from overeating.”
The female chuckles. “Apparently so.”
The males boo as I start walking toward the closed hut door.
