Chapter 11
It seemed that they were stuck in the darkest pits of the infernal regions where icy snow blew and tortured Ragoru as it gradually and relentlessly worked its way through their thick pelts. It even sounded like such a horrible place, with the shrieking and howling winds sent by devouring monsters waiting to pick their bones clean. His ear twitched in annoyance. He did not understand how the wind sounded so much louder in the human dwelling than it ever had when they were snug within their den.
He grunted and laid a hand against the windowpane, the cold material chilling the pads of his palm and fingers. “We should have waited until after the Withering Days to make this journey,” he grumbled. “We were too optimistic.”
“So you have said.” Laro lifted his head from where he had been carefully selecting and assembling the weights onto his barbell. “But would it have really changed anything? We still likely would have ended up in the same place except that they would have hurried us out of the citadel a lot sooner without any opportunity to protest. Besides,” he continued as his eyes dropped back to his task, “what is the harm in a little optimism?”
Vrin gave him an incredulous look. “Optimism is one thing, but it should have been better balanced against reality. Or do we just enjoy suffering?” he added sarcastically. “Because taking the chance of getting caught in the citadel mateless and yet within scenting distance of an unmated female during the Withering Days is the height of stupidity.”
A sympathetic look crossed Laro’s face, and he inclined his head. “You are not wrong.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” Vrin growled on a sigh as he turned away to stare back out the window, his eyes narrowing on the female who was their current source of woes. She appeared to be clearing away snow despite the fact that it was accumulating faster than she could clear it. How ridiculous. “You could at least pretend to feel all of the optimism that you keep flinging at our heads like you are doing us some kind of favor.”
Laro grunted quietly as he turned a heavy disc over in his hands. “A mate will do us good—and better sooner than later. I do not know why there was an impulse to come now, but you cannot deny that you felt it too. And we all know that we have put it off too long. Any longer and I fear we would grow too complacent to even try.” He looked up grimly. “Or do we allow the past to control our future so that we remain alone?”
He had him there.
Vrin huffed and directed a glare out whited-out world outside the window. The snow was coming down so heavily that he could not even make out the outer practice yard just outside the training room. It all seemed to mock his captivity. “A great success it has turned out to be too. But,” he admitted reluctantly, “you are not wrong. If we had not ventured out, we would have passed yet another season in our den as we had done for countless seasons before. I just dislike this.”
The corners of Laro’s mouth quirked faintly. “What is there to dislike so greatly? We have shelter against the wind and snow, and full stomachs with little effort on our part.”
Vrin grimaced. “Our shelter is louder and draftier than the comfort of our den, our sleeping area inadequate, and the food that we provided is just barely what I would consider edible. If that were not bad enough, we are forced to suffer with that... that... female,” he growled.
The soft chuff of laughter that met his words was unexpected, but Vrin hid his surprise and the excited leap of his heart behind a deepening scowl as he tipped an ear toward his brother. Laro had truly laughed. He did not recall the last time he actually heard his brother laugh out loud.
“I do not see what you find amusing,” he grumbled.
Laro shook his head but settled the weight in his hands in place on the bar. “I did not expect such complaints from you. You have always disdained those who are demanding and required coddling when presented with even the slightest discomfort. Yet you are complaining about drafts, noise, the quality of food... and a lone female.”
“That is because Vrin has little appreciation for my cooking and winning personality.” Uma smirked at him as she stepped into the room, much of her form concealed under thick layers of clothing despite being inside.
For a moment he experienced an attack of conscience as he eyed her heavy coverings. How cold was it for a furless species? Although he grumbled at the annoyance of the drafts, he did not actually feel any discomfort. It would have to be a lot colder for him to actually be chilled. As Laro said, he was complaining more for the sake of complaining and pure boredom. If they were still in their territory, he would still be venturing out to check for intruders without complaint. But humans were not built the same. He truly did not understand what motivated a human to dwell somewhere where the temperatures surpassed their own natural endurance. If they needed to wrap themselves so completely to survive, then what was the point? It could not possibly be advantageous.
The female’s brows rose slowly in a mocking fashion, and he blinked before snapping his gaze away with a sharp turn of his head to stare sightlessly at the white expanse of nothingness.
“I would hate to see what you are comparing yourself against if you believe that you and what you pass off as food is winning,” he retorted.
“Now don’t try to hurt my feelings,” she chided in turn. “We are going to be stuck together for a while. The least we can do is get along. I have even charitably forgiven you for calling me a... what was it... a vicious, diseased rooter determined to ruin a place with my mere presence?”
Vrin did not even bother holding back a smile as he recalled that particular barb with pleasure. She had certainly looked angry at the time, and he had taken a great deal of pleasure out of getting such a strong reaction from her, especially when she had made a point to be in their business and underfoot so much of the day, giving them little peace or privacy. Even speaking in ragii to each other had become uncomfortable with the way she would suspiciously squint at them as if expecting them to suddenly attack.
“That may have been it,” he agreed with relish.
His ear twitched at her quiet chuckle but she shrugged. “Right. Well, it was certainly creative. In any case, I’ve decided to let bygones be bygones, so I have made this little peace offering since we are going to be stuck in here together for a while.”
Vrin’s nose twitched as he looked down at the bowl. For once it wasn’t colorless stew but appeared to be some sort of flaky bread from which a rich, meaty scent rose. It was not the most appealing scent in the world, but it was so far superior to the flavorless stew that it made him salivate.
He gave her a suspicious look. “This is for me?”
She nodded in agreement, a guileless smile curling her lips. “All for you,” she agreed easily. “You can’t help being the citadel’s current pet annoyance, so this is just something small in the hopes that we can move past this and share space without trying to murder each other.”
He squinted at her as he carefully considered her words. She was begging him for peace—she was surrendering and bringing him a gift to bribe him. He should throw it back in her face, toss the bowl to the ground and smash the food beneath his foot, make it clear exactly what he thought of her peace offering. Instead, he surprisingly hesitated as he eyed the bowl.
He was hungry. And it was better than the stew that would doubtlessly be served again. His ear turned as he heard Kam jog over and his secondary left eye rolled back to watch the approaching male. He was definitely looking at the bowl with far too much interest. Kam’s tongue slid over his teeth as he came to a stop beside him. He eyed the bowl for a moment before looking up at Uma with a hopeful smile.
“What is this?”
Vrin’s head cocked as he observed the way she smiled with what looked like pleasure as she turned to speak to Kam.
“It is just something I made for Vrin. It’s what is called a meat pocket.” Her gaze shifted back to him briefly before returning to Kam. “But he doesn’t seem to want it.”
“He does not?” Kam’s eyes widened and he glanced over at Vrin in surprise. A hungry look settled over his face as his eyes returned to the bowl that had Vrin bristling. Surely the male wouldn’t dare to take what was his. “If he does not want it, then I will be happy to...”
“I did not say that I did not want it,” Vrin interrupted with a growl of warning, incised.
Baring his teeth at Kam and then at Laro in case the lead got the idea to take his gift away so to tease him, he was somewhat mollified by the way both males lifted their hands and backed away with amusement as he snatched the bowl from the human and gripped it tightly against his chest. He felt a little ridiculous when Uma’s eyes widened in surprise at his sudden movement, but the feeling disappeared quickly when a look of satisfaction drifted over her face as her lashes lowered over her watchful gaze. He felt a moment of triumph at the submissive gesture and glanced down at the meat pocket in his hand.
Clearly she wished to see him enjoy what she made. Perhaps to reassure herself that he was properly satisfied with the offering. He gave the lumpy bread one last slightly dubious look as he did not typically enjoy bread, and his nose twitched again at the scent filling the air. It was not great, but at least it smelled better than the stew—that was definitely something in its favor. The fuller his stomach was then the less of that goop he would have to force himself to swallow.
Grabbing the meat pocket from the bowl, he ate it quickly within a few snaps of his teeth. His nose wrinkled slightly at the flavor. He did not understand how she was cooking the food that made it taste so strange. The meat pocket was not as tasteless as the stew, but it was peculiar. He ran his tongue over his teeth in an attempt to identify the flavor, his head tilting curiously.
A wide smile stretched across Uma’s face as she watched him, and his fur began to prickle and rise in instinctive reaction. Why was she looking so pleased?
“How was it? Tasty?”
“No,” he replied flatly. “Better than your stew which tastes like it could easily be mud, but there is an unappealing taste to it that I cannot identify.”
Her brows flew up, her eyes widening as her mouth rounded in surprise. “Really?”
He gave her an impatient look, not the least interested in entertaining humans now any more than he had been, but he stilled when her expression shifted from shock to a broad grin that made his hackles rise completely.
“What...” he began, but his teeth snapped together in alarm when his stomach twisted with a gurgling lurch.
He frowned, and it slowly deepened into a concerned scowl as the sensation dropped lower and lower. With a yelp, he sprang to action and raced from the training room straight for their designated space for relieving his bowels. He barely made it before he felt the release uncoil through him, tensing his every muscle as his body ejected every bit of nutrition in a foul, heaving projection that had his ass clenching with a painful spasm. His loud curse echoed through the small room, and from a distance he swore he could hear laughter.
“Damn female,” he snarled before he whimpered as another spasm seized his guts.
He would pay this agony back on her one way or another.