“Will they kill us, Kerrick? They won’t kill us, will they?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Ysel started to wail again and threw her arms about him, pulling his body tight against hers. This wasn’t right; only small children touched each other. But even though he knew that it was not permitted he still enjoyed the feel of her flesh against his. Her breasts were small and hard and he liked to touch them. But when he did this now she pushed him from her and cried even louder. He stood and walked away in disgust. She was stupid and he didn’t like her. She had never talked to him before they had been brought to this place. But now that there were just the two of them it was different for her. Not for him. It would have been better if one of his friends were here instead. But they were all dead; a pang of fear went through at the memory. No one else from the sammad left alive. They would be next. Ysel didn’t seem to understand that, she could not bring herself to believe that there was nothing they could do to save themselves. He had searched carefully, over and over again, but there wasn’t a thing in the wooden chamber that could be used for a weapon. Nor was there any way to escape. The gourds were too light to harm even a child. Much less one of the murgu who had brought them here. He picked up the gourd of water and sipped at it; his empty stomach rumbled. He was hungry—but not hungry enough to eat the meat they had brought. Just looking at it made him want to vomit. It wasn’t cooked—nor was it raw. Something had been done to it so that it hung from the bone like cold jelly. He poked at it with his finger and shuddered. The door creaked, then opened.
Ysel pressed her face to the base of the wall and screamed, her eyes closed, not wanting to see what came through. Kerrick stood, facing the opening, his fists clenched and empty. Thinking about his spear. What he would do to them if he only had his spear.
There were two of the murgu creatures this time. He might have seen them before, he might not. It made no difference, they all looked, alike. Bumpy, scaly, thick-tailed, blotched with different colors, with those ugly things sticking out behind their heads. Murgu that walked like men and grabbed things with their deformed two-thumbed hands. Kerrick moved slowly back as they entered, until his shoulders were against the wall and he could go no further. They stared at him with expressionless eyes and he wished again for his spear. One of them twitched and moved its limbs, making mewling noises at the same time. The wood was hard against his shoulders.
“Have they eaten anything yet?” Enge asked. Stallan signified negative, then pointed to the gourd.
“That’s good meat, enzyme-treated and ready to eat. They use fire to burn their own meat before they eat it, so I knew they wouldn’t want to have it raw.”
“Have you put some fruit out for them?”
“No. They are meat eaters.”
“They may be omnivores. We know little about their habits. Get some fruit.”
“I cannot leave you here alone. Vaintè herself ordered me to guard you.” There was a tremble of dismay to the hunter’s words caused by the conflicting orders.
“I can defend myself against these small creatures if I have to. Have they attacked anyone before this?”
“Just when we brought them in. The male is vicious. We beat him until he stopped. He hasn’t done it since then.”
“I shall be safe. You have followed your instructions. Now obey mine.”
Stallan had no choice. She left, reluctantly but quickly, and Enge waited in silence, searching for a way to open communication with the creatures. The female still lay facing the wall, once more making the high-pitched sound. The small male was silent, undoubtedly as stupid as all males. She reached down and took the female by the shoulder, pulled at her to turn her around. The creature’s skin was warm and not unpleasant to touch. The wailing sound grew louder—and sudden agony lanced through her arm.