The New World Ch. 06

Matteo was crying. He tried to roll his hogtied body over to his lover, but the Alpha put a foot down on his shoulder.

Matteo froze. The noises were unbearably loud, the smells unbearably strong. He could smell sweat and body oder and bitter alkali jealousy and hot lust and satisfaction and leather and wood and ash. But he could also smell something else. So faint, that he could barely pick up on it. A mixture of wool and exotic wood and sweat tinged with alcohol and hair oil and goatskin gloves.

Ahote stopped his struggling when Matteo made a horrible noise. The little red wolf was utterly exhausted, and had barely been able to struggle and cry only moments before, but now he was screaming. The scream was a high-pitched keen of fear and alarm and warning. He was bucking and struggling like a fresh-caught fish, his eyes were wide and glazed with panic.

"Run!" Matteo shrieked in Nipmuc. Then he switched to French, unable to recall a word of any other language. "He's here Oh god he's here he's gonna kill us we have run! Roderick's here he's going to put you in cages we have to RUN."

Wolves have instincts, and something about the pup's sudden manic terror put a chord of fear in all of the wolves in the tent. Four braves ran outside, and one of them let out a high warning cry as the faint smell reached his less sensitive nose.

Matteo had stopped screaming and was just struggling. His wrists were so small, so slick with sweat and snow and blood. The leather stretched, and suddenly one skinny arm and chafed fist was free.

The tent was empty, the warriors were surrounding the tent with spears and bows. Matteo let out a low bawl of pain and effort as he freed his other hand. He squirmed like an insect over to Ahote, kicking his ankles, trying to get the thongs from his feet. He attacked the leather bonds on Ahote's wrists with his blunt human teeth, grinding and tearing with sudden panicking strength.

Matteo tried to flee as he was, naked and panicked. But even desheveled and bleeding and insensed with rage, Ahote retained an iota of sense. He grabbed Matteo's arm and forced him to stay while he took two thick buckskin robes from the corner in which they had been carelessly thrown.

Matteo took the cloak from him with barely concealed panic, and ran for the door, dragging his lover behind him with a wiry desperate strength. Ahote ran with him, feeling the urgency trembling in every line of Matteo's body.

Outside, they ran.

They ran through snow that sunk them up to their knees. Through the line of braves readying themselves for a fight with an unknown adversary. Matteo let out a broken cry of fear when the gunshots came. When the screams came.

Darts tipped with sleeping poison hissed through the trees, released from blowguns. Matteo ran, his senses fogged with fear and gun-smoke and adrenaline.

It wasn't until Matteo sank to his knees with utter exhaustion that he realized that he had been running alone.



*I may do the same for Alone at the End of the World... I wanted it to be a nice self-contained trilogy, but I agree, It's been a while.*