The murmur that rippled through the crowd was like the rustle of leaves in a storm—curious, skeptical, watchful. Heads lifted, eyes locked onto , so narrow with assessnt, others wide with intrigue.
The weight of their gazes pressed against my skin, but I stood tall, my pulse steady, my expression calm. This was my mont. My introduction. My opportunity.
Hina’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, firm and commanding, leaving no room for doubt. "He is under our protection now." Her dark eyes swept over the crowd, her tone leaving no space for argunt.
"Under my protection." She turned to then, her expression softening just enough to make it clear—this wasn’t just words. This was a vow.
"Dexter, from this mont on, you are family." Her voice dropped, lower now, just for , but still carrying the weight of her authority. "And in this tribe, family takes care of each other."
I nodded, my throat tight with sothing that wasn’t quite gratitude and wasn’t quite triumph—but sothing close.
Then Kerry stepped forward, her hand finding my shoulder, her voice warm but carrying across the firelit clearing. "Hina... I forgot to tell you..." She glanced at , her dark eyes glinting with sothing knowing—sothing proud.
"My Dexter... he’s also a healer." The words hung in the air, and a ripple of surprise passed through the crowd. "His grandfather was a healer. He taught him all his skills..."
Hina’s head snapped toward , her eyes wide with excitent—with hope. "That’s great..." Her voice was breathless, almost disbelieving, as if she’d just been handed a gift she hadn’t dared to wish for. "Now we also have a healer in our tribe!"
I hesitated—just for a second—before I shrugged, my expression false with modesty. "But... Aunt Hina..." I let my voice drop, just enough to make sure everyone was listening.
"I only learned how to heal won’s diseases..." I paused, letting the implication sink in. "Before my grandfather could teach about n’s diseases... he passed away."
The crowd stilled. A beat of silence. Then—
Hina laughed. Not in disappointnt, but in delight. "That’s also fine, Dexter..." Her voice was warm, assuring, her hand clapping my shoulder with approving strength.
"I am happy that we have you..." She turned to the tribe, her voice ringing out, proud and commanding. "Now... we will beco a stronger tribe!" Her gaze swept over the gathered faces, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
"And you heard now—we also have a healer!" She raised her voice, her words carrying over the crackle of the fire. "If any woman... has any sickness, she can co to Dexter!"
A murmur rose again—this ti, different. Excited. Hopeful. Hungry.
I smirked inwardly.
Oh, they’d co.
And when they did?
I’d heal them all right.
In ways they hadn’t even dread of.
The words still humd in my mind, a dark promise lingering beneath the surface of my thoughts. Hina’s voice cut through the haze, pulling back to the present.
She reached into the pile of roasted at near the fire, her calloused fingers selecting the largest piece before turning to . The firelight danced across her face, casting shadows that made her sharp features look even more imposing.
"Here you go, Dexter." She pressed the at into my hands, her grip firm, her tone maternal but laced with sothing else—pride, maybe, or the satisfaction of having secured a healer for her people. "You should eat a lot. As you’re growing up."
I took the at, the warmth of it seeping into my palms, the scent of charred flesh and smoke filling my nose. But I didn’t bring it to my lips. Not yet.
My gaze flicked over the at—dark, glistening with fat, the edges blackened from the fire. There was no salt, no seasoning, nothing to mask the raw, primitive taste of it. And worse—hygiene. Had they washed it? Cleaned it? Or had they simply butchered the animal and thrown it over the flas, blood and dirt still clinging to the flesh?
My stomach twisted.
I glanced at Hina, her dark eyes watching expectantly, waiting for to take a bite. The tribe around us was already eating, tearing into their at with teeth and hands, juices dripping down their chins, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire. They didn’t care. They didn’t know any better. This was life here—raw, unfiltered, survival in its most basic form.
But I knew.
And the thought of biting into sothing that might still be tainted—sothing that might rot in my gut—made my throat tighten.
I forced a smile, my fingers tightening around the warm, greasy at on the bone—still steaming, the scent of spices and roasted fat clinging to my skin. "Thank you, Aunt Hina," I said, my voice smooth, practiced, dripping with false gratitude.
My stomach twisted, but not from hunger. I didn’t eat. Not yet. Instead, I turned the at over in my hands, pretending to inspect it, my thumb brushing against the charred edges as if judging its perfection. The juices glistened under the flickering torchlight, but my mind was elsewhere—calculating, stalling, buying myself just a few more seconds.
Then Kina’s voice cut through the hum of conversation like a blade.
"Dexter... co." Her fingers curled around my wrist before I could react, her grip firm, possessive. "I’ll take you to et the others."
I glanced back—just once. Kerry’s eyes were on , dark and unreadable, her lips parted as she took a slow, deliberate bite of her own al. Hina laughed at sothing, her voice bright, oblivious, but Kerry’s gaze lingered, heavy with sothing unsaid.
The firelight danced across the faces of the won gathered around, their laughter and chatter weaving through the crackling flas. The air was thick with the scent of roasted at and sweat, the warmth of the fire pressing against my skin. Kina’s hand was still clasped in mine, her fingers warm and possessive as she pulled toward the group.
"Dexter," she said, her voice bright with excitent, "et Ruth."
Ruth looked up, her white hair catching the firelight like spun silver, her blue eyes sharp and assessing. She was young—around Kina’s age—but there was sothing otherworldly about her, sothing that made my pulse quicken. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the flickering light, a stark contrast to the bronze tones of the other won.
The hide wrap she wore clung to her body, the material stretched tight over her full, round tits, the nipples—pink, perky—peeking through the gaps in the leaves.
My gaze dropped lower, to the white bush between her thighs, the curls soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the darker hair of the other won. The thought of spreading her thighs, of seeing that pale, soft flesh up close, made my cock twitch in anticipation.
"Hello," Ruth said, her voice soft but not shy. Her eyes lingered on , curious and assessing, as if she could see right through .
User Comments
0 comments from readers