Chapter 38
We scour the wide gully between two jagged mountains, hunting movement amongst the trees, rocks, and the bright river cutting it all in two.
Tufts of grass and small sunshine-colored blooms have burst past patches of half-melted snow, sweetening the air with the smell of life. Luring fluffy white kitzus that bound across the meadows, pausing to nibble sprigs while their massive ears twitch and swivel.
We pay them no heed as we slice through clotted clouds, Líri’s light dimmed, every whip of her wings angled to cut the currents with smooth, silent precision. But they’re a sure sign we’re in the right spot, the bite-sized creatures the perfect prey for other things.
Bigger things.
Líri’s hunger radiates through our bond, my own empty gut gurgling to be filled. It hones my senses. Makes me keenly aware of the large creature moving amongst the trees even before its dense musk reaches us.
Líri tilts, swooping clear of the clouds. I lean over and peer down her side, stare sharpening on a dark shape prowling through the undergrowth beneath the compact trees—
A bhar. Male. Bigger than most.
Meaty.
Our hearts hitch in unison, the muscles under my tongue tingling in eager anticipation.
Líri twitches, no doubt considering an impatient plummet, followed by a swift dart between the branches.
But it risks a painful wing-snag. Not to mention the thorny vines that bind the thick trunks and tangle with their gangly limbs.
I’ve pulled enough of the prickly fuckers from the soft pad on the inside of Líri’s claws to be certain I never want to bust through a canopy again.
I grunt my displeasure.
She hesitates. Changes course, finding a strong current to glide upon, allowing us to hover—her eyes so trained on the gaps between the trees it’s as if her head’s caught on a pike, the rest of her body gusting with the wind.
We wait, watching. Catch glimpses of the bhar moving toward the wide-open meadow teeming with the small kitzus they so love to snatch.
A tiny white bird bursts from the canopy near the meadow’s outskirts. Sure sign the beast is getting close. Preparing to charge.
I flatten against Líri’s back, our hearts thumping hard and fast. Filling our muscles with a surge of energy.
Utter stillness, and then—
The bahr explodes free of the trees much faster than its plump, shaggy body suggests it should move, its short limbs powerfully built, exploding with sprinting might. Its paws gouge patches of snow as it launches toward a group of nibbling kitzus that scatter for their lives.
The bhar releases a roar that appears to confuse its prey, making some of them spin and dart in the other direction. The sort of sound that might’ve intimidated me before things became so clear.
Before I realized the savage urges I’ve spent the past twenty-three phases mostly ignoring are actually the key to a simpler existence, void of the need to think or feel or remember.
Líri dives.
My body has become so used to high-velocity plummets that all I feel is a giddy thrill as the world rushes toward us. As Clode snatches my loose hair, like she’s trying to yank it from my scalp.
I bare my teeth, body tight and poised for impact.
Just when it seems we’re about to smash headfirst into the ground, Líri flicks out her wings, extends her talons.
We strike with bludgeoning force.
Our thunderous collision almost masks the sound of the bhar’s skull popping beneath Líri’s paw. A death so swift I doubt it felt a thing.
Nearby birds scatter from the grass, flocking for cover as I heave breath, my body tingling from the echoing rush of our descent.
Líri lifts her bloody paw and prowls back off the kill, head dropping to sniff her prey. Checking for signs of life while I salivate, eagerly anticipating our meal.
I toss my leg over her back and slide down, evaluating the bhar, barely able to see over its bulging belly. The creature is large enough to feed us both for many cycles, with plenty left for small predators to pick at.
Líri nudges it. The softest push that flops the carcass, spilling more blood on the snow, tainting the air with the smell of fresh meat. Something that’ll hopefully lure more plump predators to the area.
Despite Líri’s strong urge to fly south, I’m less inclined to leave these lush and bountiful mountains.
The male I love is nearby.
My desire to be close is unshakable, as are my instinctual urges to scout the surrounding peaks, ensuring there’s nothing coming to hunt or cause him harm.
To take him from me.
Líri stabs her claw into the beast’s fluffy abdomen, puncturing it in place. She widens her maw, strings of saliva stretching between her pointed sabers before she sinks them into its hind and rips, tearing off a flap of skin and meat she flicks at me.
It slaps onto the snow at my feet, bloody and steaming.
I release a throaty rumble of gratitude.
She huffs and sinks her teeth into the bhar’s gut, then whips her head to the side, snapping its ribs and making a messy hole. She pushes her entire snout into its cavity and roots around for the liver.
Her favorite part.
I drop a knee, grab the strip of meat, and rip into the flesh—finding it so tender it falls apart in my mouth with barely any resistance. Meaning the beast died fast and without stress.
I tear off another bite, masticating the gamey mouthful. Recalling our first hunt. My first bite of raw, still-warm meat.
I’d winced. Screwed up my face. Was still clinging to soft shreds of my old self. But the more we flew, the more weightless I became. The less I craved the taste of cooked meat.
The more I craved this.
The feel of blood dribbling down my chin.
Of tendons ripping apart between my teeth and the soft weight of something freshly slain moving into my empty belly.
The freedom of slumbering above the clouds with the noise so far beneath; no need to speak or feel or worry beyond the source of our next meal and scouting the perimeter. Keeping threats at bay.
Líri releases a low warning rumble. Through the ebb and flow of our bond, I feel her senses prickle. Sure sign we’re being watched from a distance. Not that she seems too worried.
Neither am I, given the speed in which we can get into the sky and be defensively poised. But it does pique my curiosity—primitively aware we’re sharing this meadow with another.
With a male ripe with the hardy scent of strength and dominance.
Mine.
I stuff another bite of meat in my mouth as I cut my gaze around, through a thicket of small trees that offers little shelter, breath stilling when I hear—
Song.
A deep baritone that lifts the hairs on my arms and across the back of my neck.
I stop chewing.
My gaze snags on movement between the trees; narrows on a spot at the mountain’s base.
On a lazy waterfall that slips down a mossy cleft in the cliff, pours into an azure pool, and feeds into a slow-moving stream.
And amidst the steam rising off the pool’s rippled surface, a broad, masculine figure—
Him.
My hand lowers as I take in the powerful scape of Kaan’s back, his bulging muscles inked with so many moons. One that threatens to jolt me into thinking too much.
Feeling too much.
I’m about to look away when he spins, the warmth in his molten eyes infusing me with the same ravenous thrill I feel when soaring through the clouds on Líri’s back. At the same time, a push of wind brings his scent straight to my nose—dense and robust.
Dashing thoughts of anything else.
A rumbling sound boils in the back of my throat.
I shove up and charge through the meadow, the heavy strip of meat swinging from my clenched fist. An offering I hope he’ll appreciate.
Líri releases a warning growl.
I whip around, snarling when a deeper growl thunders down from where Rygun’s nesting atop the mountains above the low-hanging clouds.
Líri snuffs, slitting a narrowed glower through the trees before she stuffs her bloody maw back into the beast’s torn-up belly, giving me her back. Reluctant submission for me to move away from her protective space. Into his.
But submission, nonetheless.
I charge toward the spring, watching Kaan lather his body, smearing suds across his muscles while he sings.
Charming me forward one smooth word at a time.