roll over and spit out snow. He smelled like pack.
I recognized him slightly from the hunt but we hadn't been introduced. His scent was birch bark and some sort of moss. I looked around. The bus was gone, and along with it the rest of the pack. They'd apparently left me and this other man alone in the woods, miles from home. Gee, what pals.
As he rose to a sitting position, he growled and struck out again with a kick. A weak flow of Sazi magic pressed against me. My answering growl came without warning. It was a deep-throated, angry sound. I avoided his blow easily and landed a heel right to his bearded chin. There was a satisfying echo as the back of his head smacked against the frozen ground from the blow. Then I planted my bare foot on his throat and pressed.
"Stohp!" he shouted as well as he was able with compressed vocal cords. That word I understood. I was fairly sure what he'd been saying before was in Russian, but couldn't be sure.
"Who are you?" I asked. I watched the bulk of his body carefully. If he intended to continue fighting the first clues would be visible in his body. And he might fight. Both his eyes and scent were angry. Blood trickled from his nose to disappear into the black hair on his lip.
He tensed and began to struggle, but I was ready for him. I pressed more weight onto the neck, grabbed the fist he'd raised to hit me between the legs and twisted sharply. Bones and tendons stretched nearly to breaking. After a moment he gave up. His scent changed to a sharp hot and sour soup mingled with mildew. Afraid and amazed. I seem to have that effect on a lot of people.
"Men-yah zah-voot Yurgi Kroutikhin," he whispered hoarsely.
I shook my head in annoyance. "I really hope you speak English, buddy. Otherwise, I'm going to be forced to put you out until I figure out what's going on." My muscles tensed. I had to straggle not to end this as my instinct was urging me to. He was pack. Intellectually I knew it would be a bad idea to hurt him. But I wanted to.
"I am called Yurgi Kroutikhin," came the heavily accented words in a wheeze.
"Nice to meet you, Yurgi," I put a little extra twist on the arm. His gasp of pain, and the resulting scent of Worcestershire sauce pleased me more than I'd like to admit. My voice was harsh as I asked, "Why the hell were you kicking me?"
He coughed and tried to draw air so I eased up on the foot a fraction. Only a little, though. I didn't want him to get any ideas.
"I was trying to wake you, Anton. It began to snow. We must finish work and return before midday." I gritted my teeth. "First, I'm Tony, not Anton. I tolerate Nikoli calling me that because he's the boss. You don't get to. Next, the only thing I intend to do before midday is get dressed and get the hell back to town so I can have mind-bending sex with my wife."
His eyes grew wide and the ammonia scent of his panic struck me like a blow. "No, no! We must khoronit the deer. It is our duty."
"Do what to the deer?"
His free hand twirled as he tried to find the English word. He snapped his fingers in frustration. "Khoronit. Uh
… dig into the earth and… " he moved his hand in an imitation of pushing and patting.
"Bury?" I asked.
Relief flooded his face. "Yes! Bury. We two must bury the deer bones and skin. It is the Omega's duty. I am fortunate that you are also now, Tooney. We will be quick, like rabbits, yes?"
"Where are my clothes?"
He pointed with his free hand to a small bundle lying on the pine needles under a tree. "Yurgi, I'm going to let you loose now so I can get dressed. If you make one move toward me I'll kill you. You understand 'kill', right?" A clove-pride scent dusted my nose, mingled with the soured milk of disbelief. "I am Sazi. I will heal." I shook my head with a slight smile and cold eyes. "Heart and then head. Yurgi. Kill. I've done it before so no tricks." It had taken me a long time to understand that death comes hard to the Sazi. I hit one in the chest with two barrels of a shotgun,
I recognized him slightly from the hunt but we hadn't been introduced. His scent was birch bark and some sort of moss. I looked around. The bus was gone, and along with it the rest of the pack. They'd apparently left me and this other man alone in the woods, miles from home. Gee, what pals.
As he rose to a sitting position, he growled and struck out again with a kick. A weak flow of Sazi magic pressed against me. My answering growl came without warning. It was a deep-throated, angry sound. I avoided his blow easily and landed a heel right to his bearded chin. There was a satisfying echo as the back of his head smacked against the frozen ground from the blow. Then I planted my bare foot on his throat and pressed.
"Stohp!" he shouted as well as he was able with compressed vocal cords. That word I understood. I was fairly sure what he'd been saying before was in Russian, but couldn't be sure.
"Who are you?" I asked. I watched the bulk of his body carefully. If he intended to continue fighting the first clues would be visible in his body. And he might fight. Both his eyes and scent were angry. Blood trickled from his nose to disappear into the black hair on his lip.
He tensed and began to struggle, but I was ready for him. I pressed more weight onto the neck, grabbed the fist he'd raised to hit me between the legs and twisted sharply. Bones and tendons stretched nearly to breaking. After a moment he gave up. His scent changed to a sharp hot and sour soup mingled with mildew. Afraid and amazed. I seem to have that effect on a lot of people.
"Men-yah zah-voot Yurgi Kroutikhin," he whispered hoarsely.
I shook my head in annoyance. "I really hope you speak English, buddy. Otherwise, I'm going to be forced to put you out until I figure out what's going on." My muscles tensed. I had to straggle not to end this as my instinct was urging me to. He was pack. Intellectually I knew it would be a bad idea to hurt him. But I wanted to.
"I am called Yurgi Kroutikhin," came the heavily accented words in a wheeze.
"Nice to meet you, Yurgi," I put a little extra twist on the arm. His gasp of pain, and the resulting scent of Worcestershire sauce pleased me more than I'd like to admit. My voice was harsh as I asked, "Why the hell were you kicking me?"
He coughed and tried to draw air so I eased up on the foot a fraction. Only a little, though. I didn't want him to get any ideas.
"I was trying to wake you, Anton. It began to snow. We must finish work and return before midday." I gritted my teeth. "First, I'm Tony, not Anton. I tolerate Nikoli calling me that because he's the boss. You don't get to. Next, the only thing I intend to do before midday is get dressed and get the hell back to town so I can have mind-bending sex with my wife."
His eyes grew wide and the ammonia scent of his panic struck me like a blow. "No, no! We must khoronit the deer. It is our duty."
"Do what to the deer?"
His free hand twirled as he tried to find the English word. He snapped his fingers in frustration. "Khoronit. Uh
… dig into the earth and… " he moved his hand in an imitation of pushing and patting.
"Bury?" I asked.
Relief flooded his face. "Yes! Bury. We two must bury the deer bones and skin. It is the Omega's duty. I am fortunate that you are also now, Tooney. We will be quick, like rabbits, yes?"
"Where are my clothes?"
He pointed with his free hand to a small bundle lying on the pine needles under a tree. "Yurgi, I'm going to let you loose now so I can get dressed. If you make one move toward me I'll kill you. You understand 'kill', right?" A clove-pride scent dusted my nose, mingled with the soured milk of disbelief. "I am Sazi. I will heal." I shook my head with a slight smile and cold eyes. "Heart and then head. Yurgi. Kill. I've done it before so no tricks." It had taken me a long time to understand that death comes hard to the Sazi. I hit one in the chest with two barrels of a shotgun,
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