A Feast part 2

Femi slipped away from the campfire, melting into the shadows with ease. Crouching low, he moved through the snow, quick, silent, and close to the ground. The movement felt natural, almost instinctive. He wove between patches of darkness, circling toward the bonfire where the Krags feasted.

Pausing behind a stack of wooden crates, he peeked around the edge. None of the Krags were looking his way. Perfect.

With a flick of his tail, he darted forward, stopping only when he reached a snowdrift near the firelight's edge. The flames cast shifting shadows, but he remained unseen. A quick scan confirmed his luck, no eyes turned in his direction.

Creeping closer, he slipped behind a tent and sniffed the air. An open sack lay nearby. His stomach growled as he rummaged inside, pulling out a small chunk of cheese.

He was just about to indulge when he froze.

Wait, was I about to just steal some random person's cheese?

The realization hit him like a slap. Since when had he turned robber overnight? This wasn't like him. Not normally.

Was it the hunger? He shook his head, claws tightening around the cheese.

No. I only came for my meat. Nothing more.

With a sigh, he dropped the cheese back into the sack and slipped away.

Most of the Krags were busy talking, eating, or clinking their strange horn cups together. Goruk and Areius stood near the fire, deep in conversation. Femi didn't see Varga, but that didn't matter now.

Then, his chance came.

A Krag serving meat set a plate down on a log before turning to another krag. The moment the Krag's back was fully turned, Femi lunged. His claws snatched the meat plate and all, in one fluid motion, and he bolted back into the shadows before anyone noticed.

He ducked behind the crates, heart hammering, and glanced back. No shouts. No alarms. A grin split his muzzle, his long tail curling in delight. Meat acquired.

Hidden among the crates, he devoured his prize. It's not stealing if I'm the one who hunted it, he rationalized. The rich, greasy flavor of the deer meat was unfamiliar but satisfying. Still, disappointment crept in as he licked the plate clean. Now that he'd eaten, the spectacle of the feast drew his attention.

The celebration was grander than yesterday's, fires blazed higher, laughter roared louder, and the scent of charred meat hung thick in the air. Must've been a big deal, killing that mutant. But something else caught his eye.

Human women moved freely among the Krags, serving them, their faces strained as warriors grabbed their waists or howled at them. Femi's ears twitched. Since when were they freed? Then he spotted a human man pouring drink for a female Krag.

He leaned forward, curiosity burning.

"What's going on here?"

Too focused on the scene, he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

"What are you doing, rat?" a familiar voice rumbled.

A crate shifted, revealing Varga's towering form. The female Krag stared down at him, her face unreadable. Femi forced a smile, feeling every bit like a rat caught stealing food, mid-theft.

Which, well… wasn't far from the truth.

"Varga! Hello!" he said, voice strained.

She sniffed the air, then her eyes locked onto the empty plate near his paw. Her eyes narrowed.

"You stole food," she stated flatly.

"No, I just… acquired some food from a hunt I risked my life in," he said, keeping his face straight.

Varga pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Just what I needed. A thieving rat. Seems he was right."

He? Who's 'he'? Femi's ears swiveled. Did someone predict this? Is there some kind of juju priest in this camp? His eyes darted around, half-expecting a shadowy figure in bones and feathers to emerge.

She sighed, then grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him toward her campsite. He dangled limply, too ashamed to resist.

At the fire, she dropped him onto a pile of furs. "Stay," she ordered.

Femi obeyed. "No problem, ma."

Varga gave him a long-suffering look. "I was going to feed you, but you vanished. Should've known you'd cause trouble instead."

"I was hungry," he muttered. "So I served myself."

Varga snorted. "Suppose that's one way to serve yourself, sneaking around like a rat." She sighed again. "What did I expect?"

Femi stared into the fire, as if the flames could swallow his shame.

---

Femi and Varga sat by the campfire, the flickering flames casting long shadows across the snow-dusted ground. The remnants of the feast playing out before them, the cold air carrying the scent of charred meat and woodsmoke. Femi still embarrassed about being caught red handed, tried to distract him self with other things and his attention drifted back to the human women moving among the Krag warriors, serving them and drinking from carved horns filled with strange, pungent liquids. His whiskers twitched in curiosity, and he turned to Varga with a questioning glance.

Varga seemed to sense his unspoken inquiry. "They were claimed," she said, her voice low and matter-of-fact.

Femi frowned. "Claimed?"

Varga exhaled, her breath misting in the cold. She elaborated that, as spoils of combat, the warriors who participated in the fight could take items from the battlefield weapons, armor, even people. The women had either chosen to stay with their captors or would be sold to human slavers.

Femi's tail flicked uneasily. "So, you're telling me they'd rather be taken by six-foot, muscular, savage-looking men than be sold to... fellow humans?"

Varga poked at the fire with a stick, her expression unreadable. "Humans can be crueler than even Krags," she said, her voice edged with something dark. "Seems they know it too. Most of us don't discriminate, once you're ours, you're protected. The unclaimed will be sold or given as gifts."

Femi fell silent, his mind churning. The humans of this world were so brutal that even the monstrous Krags seemed the lesser evil. A new question burned in his chest, and he turned to Varga, his voice barely above the crackling fire.

"What about me?"

Varga didn't hesitate. "You're the item I claimed as my spoils. You belong to me."

Femi's fur stood up. "My friend, calm down, we've only known each other for two days."

Varga snorted and continued prodding the flames. The silence stretched, and it was uncomfortable. Femi scrambled for another topic, something that had gnawed at him since arriving in this frozen hellscape.

"Varga, have you heard of a place called a dungeon?"

She paused. "A dungeon? I don't know what that is."

Femi did his best to describe what he remembered from his time there, carefully shaping his words to make it sound like secondhand information, just a story he'd heard from someone else. The truth was, he wasn't entirely sure what significance the place held, and he had no intention of risking his life to find out. Better to play it safe, to let the details slip out casually, as if they meant nothing to him.

Varga's eyes locked onto the flames as she poked the fire with a stick, her expression unreadable. "A dungeon," she repeated, her voice low and measured. "What you described… sounds like a place my people call Oworomo Eke."

"I'm not sure what you're expecting," she continued, "but our people know it as a land of self-challenge, a place to test our skills."

Her words stirred his curiosity as she continued

"A place where we face our fears, push our limits, and prove ourselves," she said, her voice taking on an almost reverent tone.

"Unlike what you described, It's not about being trapped or confined, but about growth and self-discovery."

Then her gaze lifted, meeting his. "Have you been in one before?" The question hung in the air like a blade. Femi hesitated, weighing his answer carefully.

"Of course not," he lied smoothly. "Do you think I'd survive a place like that?"

Varga studied him for a long moment before grunting in acceptance.

Femi's mind raced. So a dungeon was some kind of testing ground for the Krags? That made sense in a way, Varga's people saw it as a trial, a place to push their limits. But what about the humans of this world? Did they know? Did they see it the same way, or was it something darker to them?

He'd have to get their side of the story when he could. Assuming, of course, they'd even talk to him about it.

As he pondered, Varga ducked into her tent and returned with what looked like a pair of shorts, crudely made from some rough, scratchy material. She tossed them at him without ceremony. Femi caught them midair, still confused.

"That's for doing well in the hunt today," she said, her tone flat. "If you want more clothes, you'll have to make them yourself." She stared at him, as if waiting for something.

Femi turned the shorts over in his hands, then glanced back at Varga. "I nearly died for Nika," he muttered.

The words slipped out before he could stop them. He felt cheated. Not even a shirt? Not even a wrapper to block out the biting cold? These Krags really are stingy.

Varga's nostrils flared, her expression darkening. "The food you eat isn't free," she growled, "and yet you act like you're owed more."

Femi stiffened. If he didn't tread carefully, she might just take back the only clothing he had.

Femi forced a wide smile, clutching the shorts to his chest. "Forgive me, I was rude. I'm very grateful for this Nika you've generously given me."

Varga snorted, unimpressed, but didn't take them back. She turned to enter her tent then stopped."Prepare for tomorrow," she called over her shoulder as she strode back toward her tent. "I'll show you how to make and set traps."With that, she vanished into her tent.

Femi watched the flaps settle behind her before examining his new garment. He had to adjust the back for his tail, but soon enough, he was clad in his first proper clothing in what felt like ages, if he didn't count his bandages around his chest.

Finally, my treasures are covered.

If not for his fur, the cold would've been unbearable. But this was a start. Now, if he could just scavenge or craft a cloak, maybe hat to shield against the wind, he'd be in better shape.

The thought lingered as he settled onto the ground, tilting his head back to study the stars. They had become his nightly ritual, a fleeting comfort in this place. He contemplated in is mind about everything he had learned today. But exhaustion soon blurred his thoughts, and before he realized it, the stars above smeared into darkness as another strange dream dragged him under.