Chapter 9 The Swamps #2
“Oh yes, I fought a beta with a flaming spear for them. She still walks with a limp.” Neir’s scent spiked, pride tickling their noses.
Ridan laughed, throwing his head back. It was an ugly thing—honking and hawing like his joy bubbled from the back of his throat. His eyes squinted together, lining his face in wrinkles.
Brune smiled, leaning closer. “C-Can I participate?”
Jonen clapped him on the back. “You’re clan, aren’t you?”
He tried not to chuff at the ease with which they accepted him.
As the days passed, he felt more and more like this was home.
But that didn’t change the fact that he had nothing to his name.
He lived on the kindness of the clan around him.
Even Niklas was out hunting, spending much of his time with Osmond and his little sister.
Tia had already proclaimed she was going to be an archer like Nik!
and the meat he brought back helped feed them.
But all Brune had done was help Derry and patch a roof. Things he was certainly proud of, but not enough. Not if he wanted a future.
His attention drifted towards Ridan. “Will you take me hunting?”
“Hm?”
He stepped forward, kneeling in front of the omega. “I want to have things to trade, but I don’t know how. Need me to catch a rat? Sure. But the animals you speak of…I wouldn’t even know where to find them. Will you show me?”
Shock bloomed across his face, but before he could say no, Corric cut in. “I think that’s a good idea. It’s been a while since you’ve been hunting, Ridan.”
Gritting his teeth, he glared at Corric from the corner of his eye. “I’ve been busy.”
“It is Snap Jaw nesting season,” Jonen cajoled, turning his doe eyes on the two omegas. Corric glared at him balefully.
Ridan looked between the three of them before mumbling something about saying no to puppies. Finally, he agreed, and they made plans to meet bright and early the next morning.
Brune jumped forward before Ridan could get up, offering him his hand. The omega looked at it for a minute before taking it, letting Brune pull him to his feet.
“Don’t be late, Foreigner,” he warned before disappearing back into the clan, leaving only his scent behind. Brune resisted sniffing his skin. At least until he was back in the privacy of his tent.
Dawn arrived wet. The sky was gray in a maddening rain that wasn’t soaking but enough to catch on lashes. Brune had no coat, so he dressed as he normally did and left a sleeping Niklas to meet Ridan, Jonen, and Corric by the stables.
Of course, when they told him to meet them at the stables, he didn’t think that would include horses.
Ridan was standing under the overhang with a thick furred cape over his shoulders. His hair was damp and falling into his face under the weight of the rain and he was holding the reins of two horses.
Brune recognized Peppercorn, Ridan’s beloved pony. The second horse was bigger, a bay with sprigs of white mixed into his mahogany hair. He looked older; his eyes closed as he rested against Ridan’s shoulder.
At the look on his face, Ridan raised a brow. “You know how to ride a horse, don’t you?”
Brune snorted. “This is the closest I’ve ever been to a horse.” He didn’t think he should mention that he had eaten horse meat. Or that he’d enjoyed it. That probably wouldn’t endear him to Peppercorn, or her older companion.
Ridan sighed, flipping the reins over the horses’ necks. “It’ll be fine. It’s an easy ride.”
Still uncertain, Brune eyed the bigger horse's back. It certainly looked strong, but…he wasn’t exactly a small man. It was different for Ridan, he was lithe and balanced. But Brune? He would sit like a rock on that poor horse’s back.
“I can just walk,” he tried, resting his hands on his belt. He nudged Derry’s hammer, still stuck there from the day before. He really should have returned that.
“It’ll take you hours to get there on foot. Just get on the horse.”
Brune was still uncertain. The horse wasn’t that tall, but a fall would still hurt. It was one thing for Ridan to toss him to the ground, but a horse? His dignity might not recover.
With a grunt of impatience, Ridan reached for his hand to pull him close to the horses.
Standing at his side, he extended Brune’s hand toward the bay, slim fingers sliding along the backs of his thicker ones, guiding them flat.
His hand was small compared to Brune’s, calluses rough against the back of his hand.
Even though Ridan was smaller than him, Brune felt his presence keenly. Pressed against him, his fingers nearly slotted between Brune’s showing him where to place his hand. Brune shivered and tried to breathe through his mouth.
“There, let him sniff you,” he instructed, voice lowering an octave. “Horses can’t see directly beneath their muzzle, so you need to keep your hand flat. That way, they don’t mistake a finger for food.”
Deep brown eyes regarded Brune before the horse lowered his muzzle to his hands. Stiff whiskers tickled his palm before big lips began nudging his hand, moving around to see if he had any goodies tucked away. It felt strange, and he found himself laughing a little.
“His lips are so strong!”
“They use them to knock away dirt and snow to find the best grass.”
“What’s his name?”
“Boulder,” Ridan answered with a huff. “He used to pull Iylah’s cart, but he’s getting on in years. Now he babysits the weanlings and carries useless alphas to the hunting grounds.”
Brune ignored the dig, choosing to stroke up the horse’s strong neck. He was soft, coat glossy with the remnants of summer. Boulder was a good name for him. He seemed sturdy.
Moving between the horses, he gestured for Brune to come up with him. “Put your hands here.” He set one of Brune’s hands at the base of Boulder’s thick neck and the other on top of his rump.
Bending his knees, Ridan cupped his hands. “Give me your knee—no the other one! Yes, now on three, jump and swing your leg over. But don’t jump too hard; you’ll end up in the dirt on the other side.”
Boulder’s head lifted at the sound of horses approaching. Brune looked between his ears to see a damp Corric and Jonen trotting into the barn. Corric was eyeing the scene with his eyebrows raised.
“Wow, he didn’t give me that warning when he was teaching me.”
Ridan scowled. “That’s because you looked funnier sprawled in the dirt. C’mon Foreigner, we don’t have all day.”
Nervously, Brune buried his fingers in Boulder’s coarse man and jumped when Ridan told him to. The omega was strong; he knew that, but to feel how he effortlessly gave him a leg up onto Boulder’s back impressed him.
He landed a little heavier than poor Boulder deserved, knees digging into his ribs to keep himself balanced. The big horse shifted his feet under him, ears twisted back, but otherwise not moving. Once he was settled, he reached forward to give him a pat in thanks.
Beside him, Ridan vaulted onto Peppercorn’s back. He balanced easily; his posture relaxed like he’d been born astride a horse. For all Brune knew, he might have been.
“The river is low,” Jonen said as he flicked an errant curl from his eyes. “We should be fine.”
Boulder had a steady gait, following Peppercorn without any direction from him. Brune held the reins loosely in his fisted hands. He was more than happy to let Boulder make all the decisions. His concentration was on trying to stay light on the horse's back and not tip over his shoulders.
“Relax,” Ridan barked at him, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
The rain was lighter now, more like a mist in the air.
Most of the clan was still asleep or hiding away from the damp.
It was the first time the weather hadn’t been bright since Brune had arrived, and he missed the sun.
In Kaledonea, the winters were long but dry.
The massive walls blocked out most of the wind, leaving the summers scorching but the winters mild.
As they left the last of the tents behind, Brune’s excitement grew.
He hadn’t left the clan yet, relying on Niklas’s hunting stories to supply his imagination of the surrounding land.
Jonen and Corric rode ahead, the alpha desperately trying to make conversation.
Corric was talking to him now, albeit stiffly.
Still, Jonen latched onto it, seemingly grateful to have his attention back.
Ridan tsked, rolling his eyes at the obvious display. The knuckles of one hand rested in Peppercorn’s short mane, the other on his thigh. His hips moved easily, matching her movements naturally. His sword dangled off his hip, and a bow hung on his back, arrows in a quiver on his belt.
“What’s a Snap Jaw?” Brune asked, remembering what Jonen said the day before.
Ridan glanced over at him before pointing ahead, past the trees.
“Big, ugly things. Outside of mating season they’re pretty scarce, preferring to stay in the mud,” he began, wrinkling his nose as if he was recalling something unpleasant.
“They lumber around close to the ground, so it makes them seem dumb, but they’re smarter than they look, and quick, too.
Jaws strong as steel. Once they’ve got you, they’ll drag you to the bottom and bury you in mud, then take their time picking your bones clean. ”
Brune’s jaw dropped. “And you hunt them?”
“Not exactly,” Ridan said as he shifted his cloak to show Brune the bracer on his right arm.
Leather of some kind. It was shiny and bumpy in a way he’d never seen before.
“Their hides are like armor. It takes a lot to penetrate. But if you do? It makes the finest leather. Won’t wear out, and it’ll block most blades.
” He tapped the bracer with his knuckles.
“Their eggs are not so protected. They’re delicious.
A single egg can keep a warrior going for a full day and night. ”
“If you can get past the adults,” Brune guessed.
Ridan grinned that savage smile of his. “Exactly.”