Page 10 of Feast

“Trade? But they didn’t bring any goods with them, and—“

“Come, help me with this fire, little Ika.”

Ika sighed and knit her brow in annoyance. But she obeyed her Rolf as she always did and gathered a few pieces of wood from the stack by the wall. She knelt and placed them onto the embers in a tent-like fashion, watching as the flames rose to lick and consume the new fuel.

“Rolf, why do you make me hide when the other ukkur come?”

The gray-bearded ukkur said nothing. He reached and adjusted one piece of wood whose position was not to his liking.

“Rolf?”

“I’ve told you before, little Ika,” he grumbled. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“It’s not because you’re ashamed of me?”

Rolf’s gray eyes immediately flicked upward to meet hers. His features took on a pained look. He moved around the fire and took Ika’s face in his enormous hands, which only made her feel tinier and weaker.

“Ika, listen to me,” his voice was stern and serious. “I’ve never been ashamed of you. Never, you understand? You are the pride of my life.”

“But not so proud you would let others see me,” she muttered.

Ika felt the dull ache of moisture behind her eyes. She struggled to hold that water back. She hated it whenever her eyes leaked. It was just another thing that made her different. Rolf’s eyes never leaked.

“I’m telling you, Ika. Pride has nothing to do with it. But if the other ukkur saw you here, they might try to steal you, to take you away from me. You don’t want that, do you?”

Ika shook her head.

“But why would they take me? What would they do?”

Rolf’s eyebrows came together the way they did whenever he was thinking hard about something, bringing out deeply etched lines on his forehead.

“They might…they might eat you.”

Eat her? Somehow Ika doubted that. After all, Rolf had never tried to eat her, and he was an ukkur too. But if he really was telling her the truth, if he really was worried that the other ukkur would try to carry her away and eat her, then that could only mean one thing…

“Rolf?” Ika asked in a trembling voice. “Am I an ukkur?”

It was a question she had asked many times before, and Rolf always gave her the same answer.

“Of course you are an ukkur. What else would you be?”

But this time, Ika noticed a shadow of doubt behind Rolf’s gray eyes. He was a great hunter, a brave protector, and a pretty good cook, but he was a terrible liar.

“You’re lying,” Ika whispered.

“Ika!”

Rolf’s face reddened, the color accentuated against the pale gray of his beard. His brow remained knitted, but now the bushy brows angled downward in anger at being accused of lying.

“I know you’re lying,” Ika hissed and pulled away.

Her eyes were leaking badly now, and there was nothing she could do about it. The bitter drops were rolling down her hot cheeks.

“I’m not an ukkur,” she cried. “I’m never going to get bigger or stronger. I’m never going to grow a piss stick or a beard. These stupid lumps are never going to fall off my chest. And my stupid hole is going to bleed every time the moon turns. I don’t know what I am, but I know I’m not an ukkur, and I know that I hate myself.”

The anger drained from Rolf’s face and his features drooped with pain and sadness. He moved forward to comfort her.

“Don’t say that, little Ika. You—“