Page 15 of Feast

But the leader didn’t seem to notice her. He said something to his companions that Ika could not make out, and then he tromped off into woods in the direction of the stream.

Ika relaxed and let out a silent sigh of relief.

Now was the time to go back home. It had been late when she had set out from the den, and she had walked slowly, listening for danger every step of the way, so it had taken her a long time to reach the ukkur camp. If she headed back now, she would be back home and in bed before first light.

But something tugged at her curiosity.

Where was the ukkur pack leader going?

Ika had to make a decision. She could leave now and slip away unnoticed. Or she could follow the pack leader and run the risk of getting caught.

Ika’s curiosity got the better of her

She didn’t know what it was exactly. She had always been well behaved and obedient up to now. But breaking the rules was addictive, and sneaking around in the forest at night was exciting.

Just one more quick peek at the leader, and then she would skitter back to the den.

Ika moved slowly and silently through the snow, stepping on the balls of her feet the way Rolf had taught her. She had seen the direction the leader had gone, but she had lost sight of him. She had to be careful to maintain a safe distance.

As she ventured deeper into the shadows of the forest, the sounds of the fighting ukkur receded into the background, replaced by the chilly babble of the half-frozen stream.

Carefully, quietly, Ika ducked beneath the low-hanging branches, until the trees opened up on the riverbank.

Ika crouched in the shadow of a large boulder and cautiously peered over the top.

The clouds had all rolled away, and the night sky was clear. The moon was out and almost full, and its beams reflected off the crisp snow, illuminating the forest with an eerie, bluish light. Nearby, the frigid water rushed past, carrying with it big hunks of mountain ice that had just begun breaking up as the spring thaw approached.

The forest was beautiful this time of year.

But that’s not where Ika’s attention now lay.

She was focused on the massive, pensive figure standing only a dozen paces ahead of her on the riverbank, his hot breath ghosting out in moon-silvered plumes.

The ukkur.

The pack leader.

Gods, he was rotting huge. His back was strong and straight as the trunk of a tree.

The ukkur stood there for a moment, silently taking in the scenery. He seemed to be contemplating something very deeply, and Ika wondered what thoughts were passing through the brute’s head.

Then his hands moved to his pelvis and yanked back the flap of his fur kilt that was covering his crotch.

Ika had to bite down on her lip to stifle a cry.

Something long and thick swung into view, its contours limned in the pale light of the moon. It was not perfectly straight; the shaft of it curved gently skyward, and it was lined with a network of plump veins. As for the tip, it was blunt and smooth and glistening. It must be incredibly hot, because whisps of steam trailed from its throbbing length.

It was the ukkur’s piss stick.

And it was hard.

Ika knew that happened to Rolf’s stick sometimes too. He thought she didn’t know about it, but she had caught a glimpse one time at night when Rolf thought she was sleeping. He had gone outside then, and Ika had heard him grunting as if in pain. The next morning, when she inspected the ground outside the den, she had discovered a dried residue like a snail’s trail only a much, much greater quantity.

That had sparked Ika’s curiosity. But now, looking at this unfamiliar ukkur’s hard prong jutting from his pelvis, a totally different feeling was sparking inside her.

Was it envy?

Not exactly. Ika certainly wished she had that rigid pole, but not in an envious way. She simply wanted to touch it, to feel the tick of the ukkur’s pulse through the taut skin. To see how it would react to strokes and caresses.