Chapter 2
Two
FEIGRIND
I rose early, as I did most days, but it did not fill me with joy as it once had. Several times now, I had accepted tributes, and I was always disappointed. Thanks to my disposition, I was often given the more troublesome women to care for. While I was able to convince most to stay and be treated well, they never chose me. I’d had higher hopes for the last one— she was sweeter than I usually dealt with, but there was no spark between us. She took to Tyarr instead, and they were now expecting a babe together.
At this point, I was ready to give up and accept bachelorhood. I could not take another rejection.
“My brother!” a familiar voice called from outside my tent. I sat up in my bed with a sigh. If Uttin was calling for me, a fight was coming. It always did. Only the opponent ever changed.
I invited him inside with a quickly murmured, “Enter.”
When he poked his head inside, his smile was tight. Something bothered him.
“What is it?”
“One of the tributes is causing trouble. Orthorr wants you to take him for now until he is better behaved.”
My eyebrows lifted slowly. “Him?”
While I’d heard there was a more significant influx of male tributes being offered, I never thought one would be sent to me. I only ever took female tributes. I had no interest in males.
Uttin nodded. “He knows you are not to keep him, but you are the only one who can handle those like him. He attempted to run into the wilderness twice and nearly got killed by a kravick. He needs a firm hand until he understands his new life.”
I did not hide the aggravation on my face. I didn’t know when exactly I became the brat tamer of the clan. But they were always sent to me. Even the males, apparently. Uttin only chuckled at my discontent.
“Come now, before he decides to run again.”
No. That would be dangerous. We accepted tributes after we situated ourselves for the colder months, since moving around while trying to get them used to their new lives was too difficult. But that meant we were up against the woods, and if the male ran with no way to protect himself, he would not last the night. The only one I knew that had survived with no training was Verus’s bondmate, but he was nearly killed by a shadowstalker and did not come out unscathed. He still walked with a limp, and he sometimes required a cane to support him. His was a situation of desperation to escape being murdered by his town kin. He did not take such actions because he was petulant about his new place in life.
With a heavy sigh, I shoved to my feet and grabbed my swords. I followed Uttin towards the village center, where Orthorr waited for us. He stood outside the receiving tent, talking to a few guards. All three were not focused on the tent itself and therefore missed when the petite man slipped out and ducked around the back. Shaking my head, I made a detour, coming around the back of another tent to catch the man off guard. He was so busy looking behind that he didn’t notice me until he knocked into me and fell on his behind.
My brows furrowed. “Why are you gagged?”
He frowned at me, probably because he didn’t understand. Only those who regularly went to the towns to pick up tributes and discuss treaties knew the town tongue. I was a warrior, but I did not volunteer for that job. I preferred to stay close to home to better care for my mother. She was getting older and pushed too hard sometimes while working her craft. I asked her once to rest and let others do the job, but she would not. Many of the women of an older age did the same.
Normally, I would expect tears in this situation, as most tributes knew only rumors of our cruelty instead of the truth. Sometimes, the tears were fake to gain sympathy. But this male did not cry. He glared at me. It told me much about how our interactions would go in the future.
I helped him to his feet, leading him with a tight grip around his elbow back to the clan leader. He struggled and fought against me, dragging his feet, but this did not bother me. I had dealt with it before. He would learn to be happy here. They all did. And then he would move on to a male who would cherish him.
Orthorr did a double-take when he saw the male with me. “How…”
“I found him sneaking out behind your back. Why is he gagged?”
We did not treat our tributes in such a way. Nor did we use iron on their wrists, like the shackles on this one.
Uttin answered for me, glaring at the little male. “He screamed obscenities endlessly the entire journey. The other tributes could not rest. And he tried to bite me.”
So he was one of those, then. The last female who so wildly protested as such had become one of the neighboring clan’s strongest hunters. She and her eventual bondmate had a passionate romance. Perhaps this one would have a similar fate.
“Clan leader. Uttin says you requested me to become his protector?” I didn’t think my clan brother was lying, but my brothers were known to play pranks if bored. And Uttin and I were close.
Unfortunately, Orthorr nodded. “I am. I apologize. I know it is not your preference, but you have the most patience.”
That was true. The only other person more patient than myself was Rath, and he was bonded already. His bondmate was a sweet little male who was creating a system to teach the tributes our language and ways of life more quickly. It worked well with Verus’s bondmate, and hopefully, would make it easier for the newer tributes to acclimate and accept their new positions.
With a heavy dose of resignation, I bowed my head to my clan leader, my fist over my chest. “I’ll see to him myself. Is there a key to his restraints?”
He might be difficult, but I wouldn’t allow him to come to harm being bound in such ways. The restraints could injure his wrists. Besides, it was better for him to realize I would keep coming for him than for me to tie him up and make him think he just needed to wait to escape once I trusted him.
Uttin handed me the key with a grimace, eyeing the male as I unlocked his wrists and tossed the restraints aside. Like I expected, he twisted his arm in such a way to cause me to lose my grip and took off running. I rolled my eyes and jogged after him. He was small, not anywhere near as fast as I was, and it was getting dark. He’d get lost eventually. I just had to keep a steady pace behind him until he gave up.
It didn’t take long. He ran out of breath, hindered by the gag. He was too busy trying to run to remove it. When he stumbled in the forest, I was quick enough to catch him before he could get hurt, settling him on his feet without holding him back. He spun around to glare at me again, his chest heaving with his breaths.
“Want me to remove that?” I asked, pointing at the gag so he knew what I was speaking about. His glare never wavered, and he reached to untie it himself, only to give up moments later. He turned around and crossed his arms, waiting for me to remove it for him. Uttin had tied it quite tightly. I bit back my irritation at my clan brother. Uttin was not patient. It was not in his nature. He was pushy because, most often, he had to be in order to keep the townsfolk in line.
Once the gag was removed, I waited. The male would either try to run again or be too tired to continue.
In an unsurprising move, he took off again. What surprised me was when he tripped a moment later, landing with a yelp on the ground. I grimaced. It was too dark to be running around in the forest. He would only hurt himself.
Stepping over the root he tripped on, I squatted down beside his ankle, touching it gently. He hissed and jerked his leg away, but it did not feel bent in any odd fashion. It could be a sprain. I’d need to take him to the healing tent to be sure.
“Do you wish to run again, or shall we go back?”
I knew he didn’t understand me. Even if he did, I assumed he’d be too stubborn to answer. For tributes like these, it was better to ask forgiveness than permission.
“I will take you back now. We will see a healer for your injury.”
I scooped him up before he could protest, heading for the village again. Rath stood nearby, as he usually did when I was chasing down a tribute. He was the best hunter in the clan, and could see danger coming before I could. I understood the wildness of man. He understood the wildness of the creatures he hunted. It was his expertise I needed while chasing someone through the forest.
The little male in my arms grumbled under his breath, but did not fight my hold. He was more delicate than I was expecting. He fit in my arms like a female would, and underneath the sweat and dirt from the journey, he smelled of flowers, too. It was not something I’d experienced before, and I found myself curious. What else made him so different from the rest?