Feast: A Rough & Twisted Sci-Fi Romance Page 3

  But there was one troubling fact that Ika couldn’t help but notice.

  Despite all of their differences, these foreign ukkur seemed like Rolf. They were tall like him. Their features were rough and heavy. Although their bodies were mostly cloaked beneath their winter furs, their arms were bare and bulging with muscles. And all of them had short tusks protruding from their lower jaws.

  None of them looked like Ika, small and soft.

  None of them had chest bumps like she did, those useless mounds of flesh that only ever got in her way when she was running. And when one of the ukkur reached between his legs to adjust himself, it was clear that he had something substantial down there. A piss stick and sacs like Rolf’s. Not a stupid, sometimes-bleeding hole like Ika had.

  Seeing these ukkur just confirmed what Ika had long suspected.

  She was different.

  She was wrong.

  Ika wished so very badly that she could just be a normal ukkur. Big and strong and covered in battle scars. Maybe she would even grow a coarse, grizzled beard like Rolf had. She would have a piss stick between her legs and everything. It would be great.

  Then Rolf wouldn’t make her hide when other ukkur visited.

  But for now, Ika had to settle for watching from her hiding place.

  Ika could not hear what the ukkur pack leader was talking to Rolf about. The cave entrance was too far away and her ears were muffled by the heaps of pelts concealing her. She could not make out any specific words, but she could hear the sound of the pack leader’s voice, deep and rumbling like a rockslide tumbling down the side of the mountain.

  That sound sent weird ticklish vibrations deep into her core.

  It was a strange sensation. It felt warm, and yet Ika’s body reacted as if it were cold, muscles shivering, nipples hardening.

  After a while, the pack of ukkur bid Rolf farewell and trudged away down the slope and out of sight.

  Rolf stood for a while, watching them go. Finally he turned and came inside.

  “They’re gone,” Rolf rumbled softly. “You can come out now, Ika.”

  In the past, when hiding had still been a fun game, Ika would never come out when Rolf called her. She would stay in her hiding place, stifling her giggles while Rolf tromped around the den in an exaggerated manner, looking into baskets and behind boulders, pretending that he didn’t know where to find her.

  But Ika no longer felt like playing those games.

  She pushed aside the pelts that were covering her and stepped out into the center of the den. She was wearing her animal fur tunic that covered her upper body and hips but left her arms and legs exposed. Her dark hair was tied up in a simple, functional bun and decorated with feathers.

  Rolf went to the center of the den and added some logs to the fire.

  “What did those ukkur want?” Ika asked, glancing toward the cave opening and the memory of those three brutal looking warriors.

  “Nothing special,” Rolf said a little too quickly. “They were just looking to trade.”

  “Trade? But they didn’t bring any goods with them, and—“

  “Come, help me with this fire, little Ika.”

  Ika sighed and knit her brow in annoyance. But she obeyed her Rolf as she always did and gathered a few pieces of wood from the stack by the wall. She knelt and placed them onto the embers in a tent-like fashion, watching as the flames rose to lick and consume the new fuel.

  “Rolf, why do you make me hide when the other ukkur come?”

  The gray-bearded ukkur said nothing. He reached and adjusted one piece of wood whose position was not to his liking.

  “Rolf?”

  “I’ve told you before, little Ika,” he grumbled. “I just want to keep you safe.”

  “It’s not because you’re ashamed of me?”

  Rolf’s gray eyes immediately flicked upward to meet hers. His features took on a pained look. He moved around the fire and took Ika’s face in his enormous hands, which only made her feel tinier and weaker.

  “Ika, listen to me,” his voice was stern and serious. “I’ve never been ashamed of you. Never, you understand? You are the pride of my life.”

  “But not so proud you would let others see me,” she muttered.

  Ika felt the dull ache of moisture behind her eyes. She struggled to hold that water back. She hated it whenever her eyes leaked. It was just another thing that made her different. Rolf’s eyes never leaked.

  “I’m telling you, Ika. Pride has nothing to do with it. But if the other ukkur saw you here, they might try to steal you, to take you away from me. You don’t want that, do you?”

  Ika shook her head.

  “But why would they take me? What would they do?”

  Rolf’s eyebrows came together the way they did whenever he was thinking hard about something, bringing out deeply etched lines on his forehead.

  “They might…they might eat you.”

  Eat her? Somehow Ika doubted that. After all, Rolf had never tried to eat her, and he was an ukkur too. But if he really was telling her the truth, if he really was worried that the other ukkur would try to carry her away and eat her, then that could only mean one thing…

  “Rolf?” Ika asked in a trembling voice. “Am I an ukkur?”

  It was a question she had asked many times before, and Rolf always gave her the same answer.

  “Of course you are an ukkur. What else would you be?”

  But this time, Ika noticed a shadow of doubt behind Rolf’s gray eyes. He was a great hunter, a brave protector, and a pretty good cook, but he was a terrible liar.

  “You’re lying,” Ika whispered.

  “Ika!”

  Rolf’s face reddened, the color accentuated against the pale gray of his beard. His brow remained knitted, but now the bushy brows angled downward in anger at being accused of lying.

  “I know you’re lying,” Ika hissed and pulled away.

  Her eyes were leaking badly now, and there was nothing she could do about it. The bitter drops were rolling down her hot cheeks.

  “I’m not an ukkur,” she cried. “I’m never going to get bigger or stronger. I’m never going to grow a piss stick or a beard. These stupid lumps are never going to fall off my chest. And my stupid hole is going to bleed every time the moon turns. I don’t know what I am, but I know I’m not an ukkur, and I know that I hate myself.”

  The anger drained from Rolf’s face and his features drooped with pain and sadness. He moved forward to comfort her.

  “Don’t say that, little Ika. You—“

  “Don’t call me that!” Ika shouted, and she swatted his hand away. “I don’t want to be little Ika anymore! I want to be big! I want to be an ukkur!”

  Rolf flinched, astonished by her outburst.

  Ika rose and stomped away across the den to her sleeping mat, where she threw herself down and lay facing the wall with her back to the fire.

  “Ika…”

  She didn’t answer. She was ashamed of herself, ashamed for letting her emotions get out of control. Ashamed of her eyes that leaked and the stupid high-pitched sound of her voice, so much smaller and weaker than Rolf’s.

  Thankfully, Rolf seemed to understand that she needed to be left alone for now. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to say to her. She could hear him adding another log to the fire, then settling down on his own mat.

  As she lay there, with a painful feeling stabbing at her heart, an idea entered Ika’s mind.

  It would be dark soon. After Rolf had fallen asleep, she would sneak out of the cave and follow the tracks of the other ukkur in the snow. Surely they must be camped somewhere nearby. Then she would get a good look at them.

  It would be the first time she disobeyed Rolf.

  But if she was very careful, he would never know.

  CHAPTER 5

  That scent.

  What b’gods was that scent?

  Thusar leaned back against a boulder and contemplated this question. He and his pack brothers had made the
ir camp for the night in a small clearing deep within the forest. They had a fine fire blazing now. The flames cast golden light and jumping shadows against the backdrop of snow-covered trees that surrounded them. The chilly air was filled with the pleasant aroma of charred wood and roasting krelk meat.

  But those smells could not erase the scent that clung to Thusar’s sinuses like glue.

  That crazy old bastard Rolf was hiding something up there in his cave. Thusar was sure of it.

  That old hermit had always been a cagey one, for as long as Thusar could remember. Most free ukkur preferred to live together in packs as Thusar and his companions did. It was practical for hunting and defense, and it was nice to have friends to pass the time with. But old Rolf didn’t think that way. Apparently the old coot was content up there on his mountain all by himself. Every year, Thusar and his pack would stop by on their yearly migrations, and every year Rolf would greet them. But the hermit would never invite them into his den, and he was rarely interested in trading.

  Today’s visit, however, had been different.

  This time Thusar had caught a whiff of that scent, and now it was all he could think about.

  He glanced around at his companions. If they had caught the scent too, they gave no sign of it now.

  Gunnar was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire testing out a new, better method of binding stone arrowheads to the shaft. He stroked his sandy brown beard and studied his handiwork with intense focus, then shook his head with dissatisfaction, and took it all apart again. Gunnar was the smartest of the pack, and the quietest too. He was often lost in his thoughts.

  Then there were Slaine and Muk.

  Those two were the best friends among the pack, which was funny because their personalities were the most different.

  With his blond hair and laughing eyes, Muk was the youngest of the group. He was always quick with a joke.

  Slaine on the other hand never spoke. He was half-mad and terrible at following orders, but he was loyal and fierce in battle.

  But Muk had a knack for keeping Slaine entertained, usually with a violent sparring match, which is what the two ukkur were engaged in at the moment, pummeling each other with brutal punches and kicks.

  To an outsider, it would look like a fight to the death, but for Slaine and Muk it was all in good fun.

  “Give up, skrik-breath?” Muk sneered after a particularly crushing blow had sent his opponent reeling.

  Slaine bared his fangs in a bloody grin.

  He charged, dropping his shoulder into Muk’s solar plexus, and the two sparring ukkur tumbled to the ground, sending up a spray of snow that spattered a very annoyed Gunnar.

  “Watch it!” the bearded ukkur snarled. “I’m trying to work here.”

  “Sorry,” Muk said sheepishly, mopping the snow from his face. A second later, Slaine delivered a kick to his chest that sent his unsuspecting opponent sprawling back, almost into the fire.

  Gunnar shook his head.

  “With all the racket you idiots are making, it’s a wonder every nith patrol in the region hasn’t shown up,” he muttered.

  “Nith?” Muk snorted as he rose and dusted the snow from his arms. “Let them come! It would be nice to have a real challenge for a change.”

  At that barb, Slaine leapt with a roar, and the two ukkur continued their violent sparring match.

  Gunnar turned back to his work, still shaking his head in exasperation.

  Thusar remained silent through the exchange.

  As the pack leader, he should probably say something, tell Slaine and Muk to take it easy, but he allowed them to continue duking it out. Thusar understood that violent energy was their way of dealing with the unexplainable frustration they were all feeling.

  Something was missing from their lives.

  Thusar didn’t know what it was, but he knew that they all sensed it.

  Like every ukkur, Thusar and his pack brothers had all been slaves once, toiling day after day in the ksh farms operated by the nith. He and Gunnar had escaped together. It had been Gunnar’s doing. With his understanding of mechanical things, Gunnar had managed to pick the lock on their sleeping chamber, and they had run away in the night. Later, they had raided a poorly defended farm and helped Muk escape too.

  Slaine was a different story. Somehow he had managed to escape on his own, but in the process he had sustained a severe trauma to his head. They had found him half crazed and nearly starved to death in the forest by himself. The only word they ever heard him speak was “Slaine,” which they assumed must be his name.

  Ever since, the four of them had traveled the wild lands together as a pack, hunting for food and migrating with the changing seasons.

  For years, the simple joy of freedom had been enough to keep them going.

  But recently they had all begun to sense that there must be something more. None of them had expressed this thought verbally. They didn’t have to. Their bond as pack brothers was tight enough that they could read each other’s emotions.

  Each of them tried to fill the void in different ways.

  Muk and Slaine took it out on each other with their violent sparring matches. Gunnar did so by focusing all of his time and energy on designing better weapons, more elaborate traps, and testing various medicinal herbs.

  As for Thusar, he did his best to bury his frustrations under the burden of leadership. It was his duty to hold the pack together as a group, to keep them strong.

  Over time, that had been getting harder and harder to do.

  Recently, however, they had heard rumors from other ukkur that they met during their travels. There were tales of a great gathering in the south. Ukkur packs from all over the planet were joining together into one great tribe to challenge the nith’s control of the planet.

  It sounded insane.

  As much as Thusar hated the nith, those bastards had the free ukkur outnumbered and out gunned. A handful of ukkur armed with stones and slings could never bring down an entire empire.

  But there were other rumors that were even more amazing. Rumors that this growing tribe in the south had discovered a way to make more ukkur warriors.

  Could it really be true?

  Everyone knew that the nith made the ukkur. They built their slaves using technology that was beyond Thusar’s primitive understanding. But perhaps a very intelligent ukkur—Gunnar, for example—could learn how to use that technology.

  Is that what was happening in the south?

  If so, they would find out soon enough. After discussing it as a tribe, they had unanimously decided to find out what was going on down there. Whether or not they would actually join up with the larger tribe, however, remained to be seen.

  That was the reason they had visited Rolf today.

  As a courtesy, they had invited the old loner to accompany them southward on their journey. As expected, the crazy old fool had refused, and Thusar and his pack brothers had continued on their way.

  But not before Thusar caught a whiff of that scent that had lodged itself in his brain like one of Gunnar’s perfectly crafted arrows.

  He was almost tempted to sneak back to Rolf’s den and discover the source of that scent.

  That would only lead to trouble though. Thusar didn’t want to fight Rolf. As crazy as that old bastard was, Thusar had a soft spot for him. Besides, Rolf had once been a slave as Thusar had. If the hermit wanted to spend his freedom in quiet solitude, Thusar would respect that.

  Still, he couldn’t get that damned scent out of his mind.

  What had it been? A special herb? Some kind of meat that Thusar had never tasted before?

  Thusar’s memory of it was so clear and strong, he could almost swear that he smelled it again now, wafting from somewhere nearby in the woods.

  That had to be his mind playing tricks on him though.

  But the memory of that scent was having an effect on his body. The heavy sacs between his legs ached like a bruise. They throbbed with a painful desire that Thusar was u
nable to name. And to make matters worse, his piss stick was swelling and growing rigid beneath his cloak of furs.

  That happened sometimes, and he knew how to take care of it. A bit of tugging, and the problem would be solved.

  Thusar decided he’d better address the problem soon or else he would risk embarrassing himself in front of his pack brothers.

  He couldn’t have that. He was supposed to be the leader, after all.

  Discreetly, Thusar reached beneath his tunic of pelts and tucked his rigid cock behind the leather belt around his waist so it wouldn’t protrude. Then he rose to his feet and headed toward the edge of the campsite.

  “Where you going, boss?” Gunnar asked, not looking up from his work.

  “Gotta piss,” Thusar lied.

  “Keep an eye out for nith,” Muk called. He had Slaine in a chokehold, but his opponent threw him off in short order, and the two ukkur went back to dealing each other bone-crushing punches.

  Thusar shook his head and chuckled as he strode off into the shadows of the forest.

  At the edge of the campfire’s glow, he paused.

  There it was again. That unmistakable scent. But as soon as he noticed it, the elusive odor had vanished again.

  It really must be his mind playing tricks on him.

  He needed to clear his head, that was all.

  Thusar slipped away into the shadows of the forest to take care of his business.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ika crouched in the shadows, eyes wide and heart hammering like a scared animal. Despite the winter chill in the air, beads of sweat were breaking out beneath the cloak of white finnik pelts that she was wearing for camouflage.

  Rolf had been right about these ukkur.

  They were extremely terrifying.

  She should not have come here.

  But Ika’s curiosity would not be denied. She had lain awake for hours after darkfall, until finally Rolf’s baritone snores had rumbled through the den. She had then padded across the cave and donned the appropriate attire for the excursion. In addition to her heavy cloak, she also wore a pair of fur-lined boots and a finnik hat. A scarf around her face completed her outfit.