“So, they always looked like . . . this?”
The Fates did that to their eyes. The teeth are just bad genes. The piercings, they’ve done to themselves. Max snorted. I don’t imagine the inbreeding has helped much.
Within minutes, loud snaps and crackles announced another raging fire. Across the clearing, I spotted the tribal leader walking toward the pyre, his big feathered hat making him appear two feet taller. “They sure like their fire, don’t they,” I murmured.
They worship the god of fire.
I glanced back at him. “Seriously?”
Max grunted in response, not bothering to lift his head.
I began to worry. Losing Leo was bad enough; I couldn’t lose Max. I had no idea how long it would take a werebeast to starve to death, and I wasn’t going to find out. I needed to get permission for Max to eat. “I’m going out there to find you food,” I announced. “I’ll be back.”
That earned a chuckle. Don’t bother. Those damn cats are too precious to them.
I ignored his skepticism, wagging a warning finger at him. “And don’t you so much as lick Julian while I’m gone.” Inhaling, my nerves fluttering wildly in my stomach, I pushed the curtain back and stepped out.
At least a dozen heads whipped around to look at me, but no one approached; no spears waved in my direction. The chief, who now sat on a chair carved out of a tree stump, looked over, his unsightly eyes settling on me for a short moment before shifting back to the flames.
He’s the one I need to convince. Eyes locked on my target, I moved forward, my legs suddenly stiffening so I walked jerkily. He watched me approach, intrigue in those hideous orbs. When it was clear I was coming to speak to him, a quick bark in his native garble scattered everyone, granting me a wide berth.
I stopped about four feet away from him, and swallowed. “Do you speak English at all?” I asked. Those sickly eyes bored into me, but he said nothing. Clearly not. How am I going to convince him to let Max kill on his land? As I stood there, desperate for an idea to miraculously fall onto my head, the chief’s attention drifted down to my necklace, his brow puckering slightly as if he noticed something. His mouth opened to speak, exposing his rotted teeth. But then, with a quick glance over at our hut, he clamped his mouth firmly shut.
I glanced over my shoulder to catch a snout poking out from behind the curtain of our hut. Max, watching. Always watching.
A female pulled me back, mumbling. Her hands and arms clad in a pair of long gloves, she held out a bowl of small red berries. Up close, I could see they were crafted out of some sort of reptilian skin. Snake, perhaps.
“Thank you.” I smiled, accepting the bowl. Gloved fingers reached forward to pick out a berry. She gestured toward her mouth. Eat, she was saying. “Yes.” I smiled again. “I understand.” If only someone would bring a nice fresh carcass in a bowl to Max . . . That gave me an idea, one that required my mediocre skills at charades. I pointed at the hut, then at the bowl.
The woman nodded as if in understanding. She snapped her fingers and another woman ran over, carrying a second bowl of berries. For Julian. I shook my head. “I mean, yes, for Julian. But what about Max?”
She stared at me “Big dog?” I said slowly and loudly, spreading my arms as far as possible. Still no acknowledgement. I sighed. Placing the bowls of fruit down on the ground, I dropped to my hands and knees and pointed at the bowl. No response. “Woof!” I barked. A chorus of high-pitched shrieks sounded, and I felt my face redden. They were laughing at me. I decided I didn’t care. Max needed to eat.
Suddenly the chief spoke. “Demon dog . . . need blood?”
He does speak English! “Yes!” I rushed to my feet. “Max needs to eat. He’s starving.”
The chief stared at me for a long moment and I began to doubt that he did understand. Finally he opened his mouth; one word escaped. “Crocodilus.”
I frowned. Crocodi—“Crocodile?”
He nodded once, as if passing a ruling. “Crocodilus. Demon dog eat.” He waved dismissively toward the jungle. A few tribesmen snickered but I ignored them, proud of my accomplishment. Max wouldn’t starve now. “Thank you! Thank you!” I exclaimed. Not thinking, I reached forward to shake his hand. Luckily the chief had lightning-quick reflexes. In a split second, he had the blunt end of a spear jabbing into my shoulder to block me before I made contact with him.
Flustered, I picked up the bowls of fruit and rushed back to the hut. Way to go, Evangeline. Shake the hand of a poisonous man. That would end your problems quickly.
Max was waiting for me by the entrance. “Did you hear?” I exclaimed, grinning, as I placed the fruit down beside Julian.