Page 15 of Meat

A queasy feeling settled in the pit of Alyx’s stomach.

Ever since that day at her dad’s hog plant, she had never been able to eat meat. She didn’t even like to look at it. And the ongoing atrocity that she had witnessed earlier that day at the nith factory only served to reinforce that feeling.

Nearby the dead animal, a crude rack had been constructed from sticks, and the animal’s still-wet hide hung over this, drying in the heat of the fire.

The one who had done the skinning was nearby.

He was another bestial humanoid like the one that had carried her to this place. The same brutally muscled body, clawed feet, cruel mouth with protruding tusks. But there were differences too. A touch of youthfulness to his features. But not softness. No, not that. A short mohawk instead of a completely shaved head.

This new monster regarded her curiously as it cleaned its skinning blade of knapped flint. Its eyes caught the light like a wolf’s eyes.

A third brute sat nearby, perched on a massive, moss-covered log. This one was the biggest of the three. His hair was thick, his jaw lined with a coarse beard. He stared at her with an intensity that burned like two hot coals. His gaze traveled unabashed over every inch of Alyx’s bound and naked body. She felt that gaze traveling over her flesh like a physical touch.

The bearded one grunted more words. Definitely nith language, though these creatures were clearly not nith.

They could almost be men. Almost. But they were far too big and far too brutal. The clawed feet, the tusks…

The one that had brought her spoke some words. Alyx understood none of it of course, but she could guess the gist. He was explaining where he had found her and how. The trap. The rope snare.

And the other details of their encounter? Was he explaining that as well?

Under other circumstances, Alyx might have blushed.

The bearded one rose from his seat and strode across the campsite toward her. The other, the younger one with the mohawk, followed close behind, tucking his cleaned knife into its sheath.

They crouched around, examining Alyx.

Unabashed fingers roved over her body, feeling of her skin and her hair. Her bottom lip was peeled down, her teeth inspected. The one who had found her, the shaven-headed trapper, spoke some words in their alien language. Probably a warning that she was a biter.

When their calloused hands touched her naked breasts, she tried to flinch away out of shame, but it was difficult to move, bound as she was. When the young one pinched a hard nipple, she squealed, much to the aliens’ surprise and amusement.

The nith barcode tattoo on her hip received much attention, as did the collar around her neck. More incomprehensible words were passed.

The bearded one looked at the scratches on her legs with an expression that might have been concern. The nicks and cuts had stopped bleeding, but her skin was still caked with streaks of dried blood.

They rolled Alyx onto her belly. The trapper’s fingers moved over the bindings that held her. A pluck here, a tug there, and as if by magic, the knots that had hitherto felt hard as stone melted away and her wrists and ankles were freed. She stretched her sore arms and legs.

Alyx gasped as she felt rough hands on her buttocks, which still ached from the trapper’s abuse. It was the other alien now, the bearded one, and his fingers caressed her there with surprising gentleness.

More grunting ensued, which soon developed into a shouting match.

The bearded one rose to his feet, growling angry words at the shaven-headed trapper.

For the first time since she had arrived on this brutal world, Alyx felt a throb of hope. This big bearded brute was standing up for her, berating his companion for the way that Alyx had been treated. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

She wondered exactly what that bearded alien was saying…

CHAPTER 7

“Ravnar, you rotted fool,” Krogg shouted. “What have you done? You’ve bruised the meat! Are you trying to spoil the flavor?”

The hunter shook his shaved head and growled.

“I didn’t put those bruises there,” he said. “I found it like that. Must have had a bad fall. Same with the cuts on its legs.”

Krogg leaned closer, inspecting the unknown creature’s rounded rump.

“Huh. Those bruises may not be from your hand, Ravnar, but these red marks are. Why were you smacking it?”