Page 13 of Feast

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 unable 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.

She had removed the feathers from her hair and all of her decorative jewelry, except for the ring necklace, which she never took off.

Ika had not come unarmed. Her trusty flint knife was sheathed at her hip, and her hand clutched one of Rolf’s best hunting spears.

If it came to a fight, Ika would be ready.