Chapter 2: The First Hunger
The dawn at the north gate was a bleary, grey thing, the sun just a suggestion behind a blanket of mist. Zuzana stood on the cobblestones, her pack heavy on her shoulders, the weight of the black-wax-sealed jar a comforting, terrifying pressure against her hip. The village behind her was still asleep, silent except for the distant crow of a rooster. It felt like a dream.
Astrid was already there, a statue of worn steel and leather. She was checking the straps on Briar’s repaired robes with a clinical efficiency. Briar herself leaned against the stone arch, looking far better than she had any right to, color back in her cheeks. The poultice had done its work overnight.
“See? Told you she’d show,” Briar said, her voice cutting through the quiet. She pushed off the wall and gave Zuzana a once-over. “Travelling cloak, sensible boots, big anxious eyes. Perfect adventurer material.”
“I’m not anxious,” Zuzana lied, her voice a bit too bright.
Astrid finished her inspection and turned. Her gaze was like a physical touch, assessing the pack, the posture, the face. “You brought the salve?”
“Yes. And other things.”
“Good. We move quickly. Silence in the treeline unless absolutely necessary. Your first job is to not be a liability.” Astrid hefted her own pack and started walking without a backward glance, her boots crushing the dew-soaked grass at the road’s edge.
Briar fell into step beside Zuzana, nudging her with an elbow. “Don’t mind her. She’s always like this before the deep bits. All business. It’s how she cares.”
Zuzana nodded, hurrying to match their longer strides. As they left the last cobblestone behind, a strange warmth began to unspool deep in her stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant, just… insistent. A low, humming heat that settled in her core. The potion. She’d taken a small, cautious dose just before leaving, as much a leap of faith as stepping through the gate. She could feel it now, circulating, a lazy river of potential energy searching for an outlet.
The forest loomed. The tidy evergreens at the edge soon gave way to older, denser growth. The light changed, filtering down in thick, green-gold shafts. The air grew heavier, smelling of damp earth, rotting leaves, and something else—a sharp, wild scent that made the hair on Zuzana’s arms stand up. The sounds of the village vanished, replaced by the distant chatter of unfamiliar birds and the rustle of things moving just out of sight.
After an hour of steady walking, Astrid held up a fist. They froze. A flicker of motion in the underbrush resolved into a small, brown forest rabbit, sniffing at the base of a fir tree. In a flash of steel and a soft thwip, one of Astrid’s thrown daggers pinned it to the earth. It was over in a second.
“Breakfast,” Astrid said simply, retrieving the blade and the limp carcass.
Briar grinned. “Efficiency! I admire it. Here, Red, make yourself useful.” She snatched the rabbit from Astrid and tossed it underhand toward Zuzana. “Get that prepped for the fire later. Think of it as your first field dressing.”
The warm, small body arced through the dim light. Zuzana’s hands came up on instinct to catch it. Her palms made contact with the still-soft fur.
The effect was instantaneous and violent.
The latent warmth in her gut exploded into a ravenous, cramping hunger. It wasn’t a thought. It was a demand from a part of her she didn’t know existed. Her stomach gave a loud, guttural growl that sounded alien in the quiet wood. Saliva flooded her mouth.
Before her mind could catch up, her body moved.
Her jaw unhinged with a soft, internal pop of stretching tendons, widening far beyond its natural limit. She didn’t bite. She didn’t chew. In one smooth, grotesque motion, she brought the rabbit to her mouth and her throat convulsed, swallowing it whole. The small lump travelled down her esophagus, a swift, undeniable bulge against her pale skin before disappearing into the now-warm churn of her belly.
It was over in three seconds.
Zuzana stood frozen, her hands empty, her mouth closed. A faint aftertaste of wild herbs and iron lingered on her tongue. The fierce hunger subsided, replaced by a deep, satisfied warmth that spread through her limbs. She felt… good. Stronger. A faint, almost imperceptible tightness stretched the fabric of her tunic across her stomach.
Briar had turned to say something to Astrid. Astrid was scanning the trees ahead, her back mostly turned. Neither had seen.
Heart hammering against her ribs, Zuzana forced her expression into what she hoped was casual nonchalance. She wiped her hands on her trousers. “So, where do we make camp?” she asked, her voice thankfully steady.
Briar glanced back. “Little further. There’s a creek.” Her eyes dropped to Zuzana’s empty hands. “Hey, where’d the rabbit go?”
Zuzana’s brain stalled for a half-second. “Dropped it,” she said, the lie coming out with surprising ease. “In the ferns. It’s gone. Sorry.”
Astrid made a low sound of disapproval. “Careless. We’ll forage at the creek. Move.”
As they continued, Zuzana trailed slightly behind, her mind reeling. The physical memory was obscene—the stretch of her jaw, the effortless swallow, the immediate satiation. It should have horrified her. But the lingering sensation was one of profound, bodily rightness. The experimental potion wasn’t just about strength. It had rewired something fundamental. It wanted… fuel.
And it had liked it.
She touched her stomach subtly through her tunic. It felt firmer. Rounder. Not by much, but the difference was there, a new weight settling on her frame. A secret. A terrifying, thrilling secret.
Briar dropped back to walk beside her, her playful demeanor softened by curiosity. “You okay, Red? You look a little flushed.”
“Just the pace,” Zuzana said, offering a weak smile.
Briar’s green eyes held hers for a beat too long, seeing too much. But she just smiled back, a sly, knowing curve of her lips. “Right. The pace.” She leaned in slightly, her voice a whisper. “You know, the forest has a way of… bringing out new appetites in people. Don’t be scared of yours.”
Then she bounced ahead to catch up with Astrid, leaving Zuzana alone with the pounding of her heart and the warm, sated knot in her belly. The deepwood shadows seemed to lean in closer, whispering promises of more. Of full, glorious, expanding satiation.
Astrid pointed ahead to a sliver of silver water visible through the trees. “The creek. We rest there. Stay alert.”
Zuzana nodded, her fingers brushing the jar at her hip once more. This was no longer just an adventure. It was an experiment. And she was now, unquestionably, the subject. The hunger, momentarily quieted, slept in her gut. But she knew it would wake again. And next time, the offering might not be a rabbit.