People of the Sea(195)
“Finally … when I get ready … I’ll reach inside you and pull out your stomach, liver and intestines. But unharmed, Kestrel. I want them to keep functioning. And they will, you know. For a long, long time. I’ll leave your insides on the forest floor to dry in the cold and wind. It will take hands of time for you to die. Maybe even days.”
He laughed, racked by the glorious justice of it. “Or maybe it won’t be days, hmm? You’ll probably be eaten alive before any of those fools from the village come looking for you and put you out of your misery.”
A muted wail resonated in her throat, and he clamped his hand harder over her mouth while he searched the dark shadows of the forest. Spatters of moonglow shifted as the wind blew through the trees.
But Lambkill had the eerie feeling that something else moved out there, something huge, with eyes as black as midnight. His heart had begun to pound like a hunted animal’s.
“Shh!” he hushed Kestrel when she moaned, and he realized that he’d crushed her lips so hard against her teeth
that the inside of her mouth was cut. Blood soaked his hand.
Lambkill cocked his head. “What was that? Did you hear it?”
Kestrel didn’t make a sound, as though she, too, were listening breathlessly for movement in the forest.
“What’s that soundl I… I can feel the vibration of feet striking the pine duff. Don’t you feel it?”
Lambkill squinted to catch sight of the beast. But the creature slipped through the dense trees with the deadly stealth of a giant cat. He saw nothing except the wavering branches of brush and trees.
Fear began to sour in his belly.
Hurry! Hurry! To defuse his panic, he jerked Kestrel to a halt in the middle of the game trail and put his cheek against hers, the way he used to*in the old days when she’d loved him. The scent of her sweat filled his nostrils.
“Yes, think of it, my wife.” He wet his lips anxiously. “The ravens will smell your blood and descend in huge black flocks to perch on your soft limbs and caw hungrily while they peck out your eyes. The foxes, wolves and bears will come next. The animals will be frightened by your screams at first, but gradually they’ll grow accustomed to the sharp sounds. Within a hand or two of time, they’ll lunge forward to rip at your disemboweled organs.”
He lightly kissed her temple. “Close your eyes. Imagine it, Kestrel. Use your wonderful imagination, the one you use to paint with. How will it feel when the foxes pull your insides out of your body?”
Kestrel twisted violently and wrenched her head free from his grip to scream. “No!”
She kicked him and made three running steps before he tackled her and knocked her to the ground. The scent of the molding logs encircled him. Her wiggling body, so firm and shapely, fed that growing sexual desire. He could feel her muscular buttocks pressed against his groin. He moved his hard penis against it and laughed.
Kestrel managed to cry, “Help! Someone help me!” and tried to scream again.
He cut the scream short by pulling his bloody knife from his belt and pressing it to her throat. “Shall I mix your blood with Tannin’s, wife? So soon? I wanted to have time to talk to you. To tell you things that any other human would give his very life to know … to see with his own eyes!”
Kestrel had flinched at the touch of the knife. Through his tight grip, he could feel her heart hammering in terror-the way a bird’s did when, as a child, he used to pluck the feathers from its wings before he left it to flop on the ground.
Now he would pluck another bird… this one a Kestrel!
“Yes, good. That’s better. Sit up and lean back against that dead log behind you.”
Kestrel did as he ordered and brushed away the thick web of hair that had fallen over her face. Her breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps. She looked thin and tiny there, her oval face blued by the diffused shawl of light that draped the forest.
Lambkill smiled at her.
“Oh, I’m so disappointed,” he said as he leaned back and wiped a hand across his mouth. “I’ve been dreaming of how glorious it would be to build a tree perch and watch your death from high above. But it’s out of the question now. With the first gray rays of dawn, the Otter Clan villagers will be able to track us. There’s probably some fool already thrashing about searching for you.”
He glanced around at the night, his head cocked as he listened to the rustlings in the trees. Was the creature out there human? A searcher? “I can’t risk waiting around to see justice done. No, I’ll be denied that pleasure. But it will be enough to know that you, my wife, are dead and that I still have my son. Yes, my son. Little Coyote will keep me company forever. Oh? Do you doubt that?”