Chapter 9: Blood and Lust
The stench of blood and wet hide hung thick in the humid air, mingling with the iron tang of the river. Flies, drawn by the feast, buzzed in thick, iridescent clouds over the massive hippo carcass. Link stood hip-deep in the churned, pink-tinged water, his powerful arms slick with gore up to the elbows. He worked with brutal efficiency, his sharp flint knife parting thick layers of blubber and muscle with heavy, wet ripping sounds. Varn and Gor, their earlier terror replaced by grim focus, hacked at the haunches near the bank, using crude stone axes. Krell, silent and precise, carved long strips of dark meat from the flank. Gark, still pale, wrestled a slippery section of intestine towards the shallows, looking queasy.
A low growl rumbled in Link’s chest. "Cut fast! Teeth smell! Teeth come!" He scanned the murky water downstream, the reeds swaying ominously. The crocodile hadn’t forgotten.
Then, a rustle from the ferns upstream. Link’s head snapped up, knife instantly ready. The others froze.
Zelda emerged, silent as shadow. Her eyes, wide and dark, fixed not on the men, but on the enormous kill. The sheer, brutal power of it. The scent of raw life spilled open. She stepped onto the muddy bank, her gaze sweeping the scene – the blood-stained water, the glistening meat, the men bent to their gruesome task. Finally, her eyes locked onto Link. He stood taller, water and viscera dripping from his chest, the conqueror atop his conquest. Pride pulsed through him, hot and fierce.
She didn’t speak at first. Her nostrils flared, drinking in the metallic perfume of the kill. A tremor seemed to pass through her, starting deep in her belly. Her tongue flicked out, tracing her upper lip. The look in her eyes wasn’t wisdom now; it was something older, deeper. Primal hunger.
"Big swimmer," she murmured, her voice a low, throaty purr that carried over the river’s rush and the flies’ drone. She took a step into the shallows, the muddy water swirling around her ankles. Her gaze never left Link. "Link strong. Link bring much meat." Another step. The water reached her knees. "Zelda... taste first."
The men stopped working, watching her approach, a mixture of awe and unease on their faces. Gark swallowed hard, looking away. Krell paused his cutting, his expression unreadable.
Link felt a surge of possessiveness, different from his anger at the juice-shooting. This was primal too. Pride. His kill. His mate claiming her rightful share. He held her gaze, a fierce tenderness warring with the raw energy of the hunt still thrumming in his veins. He straightened, water sluicing off him, and stabbed his flint knife deep into the hippo’s tough hide, leaving it standing upright.
"Zelda taste," he declared, his voice rough but softer than before. He gestured grandly at the carcass. "Good meat. Strong meat. Link make safe." He waded towards her, the water parting around his massive thighs. He reached the freshly cut strip Krell had been working on – a deep, ruby-red slab of muscle, glistening with fat.
He tore off a generous chunk, the sound obscenely wet in the sudden silence. Water streamed down his arms as he held it out to her. Not towards her hand, but towards her mouth. An offering. A primal communion.
Zelda closed the last distance, her eyes locked with his. She didn’t take the meat. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing his bloody knuckles. She took the meat directly from his hand with her teeth, her lips grazing his skin. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second as she chewed, a low, almost sensual hum vibrating in her throat. Blood smeared her chin. She swallowed, licking her lips slowly, deliberately, her dark eyes opening to meet his again, filled with fierce approval and something else – a raw, shared energy.
"Good," she breathed, the single word heavy with meaning. "Link strong. Meat strong." Her gaze flickered past him, towards the carcass, then back to his face. Her hand rose, not to wipe the blood from her chin, but to trace a line of crimson and river water down Link’s heaving chest. Her touch was possessive, claiming him as surely as he claimed the kill. "Zelda help cut. Get meat to cave. Bor need. Tribe need." Her voice had regained some of its usual pragmatic tone, but the primal heat still simmered beneath the surface.
Link’s chest swelled. He gave a curt nod, the intensity between them shifting into shared purpose. "Cut fast!" he boomed, the command echoing back to the others, who jumped back into action, the strange moment broken but lingering in the humid air. "Gark! Gut pile away! Downstream! Far! Lure teeth away!"
Gark seized the slippery mass of entrails with renewed, almost frantic vigor. "Yes! Away! Far!" he grunted, dragging the heavy, stinking load downstream, slipping and stumbling in the mud.
Zelda waded past Link towards the carcass, pulling her own sharp obsidian blade from the thong at her waist. She moved with surprising strength, working alongside Krell near the flank, her cuts precise and economical. Her eyes, however, kept darting towards the water, towards the thick reeds where Varn and Gor were hauling chunks of meat onto the bank.
"Water watch, Link," she murmured, not looking up from her work, even as her blade flashed. "Blood call more than teeth. Big swimmer herd angry now. One gone. Others feel."
Link grunted, hefting a massive section of haunch onto his shoulder, the weight staggering but welcome. Meat. Life for the tribe. He scanned the river. The lagoon upstream felt suddenly too quiet. The hippo grunts had ceased. Krell paused, his head tilted, listening intently. Even the insects seemed hushed for a moment.
Then, a low, guttural bellow echoed from upstream, vibrating through the water. It wasn’t the confused sound of the dying bull. It was a challenge. Deep. Resonating with rage. Answering calls followed, closer than expected.
Link’s grip tightened on the meat. Zelda straightened, her obsidian blade held loosely, her gaze sharp as flint, fixed upstream where the river curved out of sight. Varn and Gor froze mid-lift, eyes wide with fear.
"Big swimmer herd come," Zelda stated, her voice flat. "Angry. Fast." She looked at Link, then at the substantial pile of meat already on the bank. "Take now! Go! Herd crush. Water not safe place."
Link didn’t hesitate. "Gor! Varn! Grab meat! NOW! Run bank path!" He roared, slinging the heavy haunch over his shoulder. "Krell! Zelda! Help carry! Gark!" He looked downstream. Gark was staggering back, empty-handed, having dumped the guts. "Gark! Guard back! Watch for teeth! Herd coming!"
Panic lent speed. They scrambled, grabbing armfuls of slippery meat, abandoning the tools still embedded in the carcass. The enormous bulk of the dead hippo was a stark reminder of the power bearing down on them. More bellows sounded, much closer now. They could hear the crashing of foliage, the agitated splashing.
Link, burdened heavily, led the charge along the narrow, muddy animal track that wound through the dense jungle parallel to the riverbank. Zelda followed, surprisingly strong under her load, her eyes constantly scanning the water and jungle. Krell moved like a predator, alert, carrying a huge chunk effortlessly. Varn and Gor stumbled behind, panting, their arms full. Gark brought up the rear, spear clutched in a white-knuckled grip, constantly looking over his shoulder, not just downstream now, but upstream towards the source of the thunderous splashes rapidly approaching.
The jungle closed in, humid and pressing. The air vibrated with the herd’s rage. They ran, the precious meat a heavy, vital prize, the unseen threat of the river and the very tangible threat of tons of enraged hippo muscle snapping at their heels. The path twisted. The cave was still far. Link ran, the taste of Zelda’s approval still warm in his memory, overlaid now with the urgent drumbeat of survival. Run. Hide. Protect the meat. Protect his mate. Protect the tribe. The jungle pressed close, alive with threat. Behind them, the river roared its fury.