Surviving Zombies Was Easier Than Raising Beast Cubs

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: Snake slow

Swanly saw the tiniest pause and knew.

She knew.

This cold, terrifying snake beastman did not know how to make fire.

Her eyes widened with the horrible joy of someone watching consequences arrive with legs.

”Oh,” she said softly. ”You don’t know how.”

Soren looked at her.

His face was still cold.

His pride was bleeding quietly all over the cave floor.

Kael’s mouth twitched.

The cubs looked up at Soren with round eyes.

The eldest whispered, ”Snake no fire?”

The second whispered, ”Mama fire better.”

The smallest pointed one paw. ”Snake scared.”

Swanly grabbed his paw and lowered it. ”Do not insult dangerous males before dinner.”

Soren picked up the fire-making stones.

His fingers were smooth and pale, too elegant for something so rough. He crouched near the dry bark, tail coiled behind him, and struck the stones together.

Nothing happened.

He struck again.

A tiny spark jumped, died, and left only smoke.

The cubs leaned forward.

Kael leaned against the cave wall, one arm around his ribs, watching with the deep silent hatred of a male who wished the fire would bite Soren.

Swanly crossed her arms.

Soren struck the stones again.

Again.

Again.

His jaw tightened.

The smell of scraped stone filled the cave. A small spark caught on the dry leaf bundle, then died immediately because he pressed too hard and smothered it.

Swanly winced.

He was doing it wrong.

So wrong.

Painfully wrong.

She almost corrected him.

Then she remembered him crushing Kael until his bones cracked.

Her sympathy folded itself neatly and went to sleep.

Soren struck the stones again.

This time, a spark flew onto his finger.

His skin burned.

He did not flinch.

Swanly did.

Because that had to hurt.

A small red mark appeared on his pale finger.

He struck again.

Another spark burned him.

Still, he did not stop.

The cave began to smell like heat, stone, and faint burned skin.

Swanly’s mouth tightened.

She hated him.

She really did.

But also, what kind of insane male kept hurting himself because he said he would do something and refused to lose?

Soren’s thoughts were cold, but under them was a hard, ugly pride.

He would not step back in front of the panther.

He would not step back in front of the cubs.

Most of all, he would not step back in front of the snow fox female who was looking at him like he was stupid.

He needed her alive.

He needed her fed.

He needed her useful.

So he would make the fire.

The stones struck again.

A spark caught.

The dry bark smoked.

Soren leaned in too close.

The tiny flame jumped, bright and sudden.

His pupils thinned.

For one moment, his whole body went still from instinctive fear.

But he did not move away.

He fed the flame another leaf.

Then another.

The fire grew.

The cubs gasped.

The smallest clapped both paws on the stone floor. ”Snake made fire!”

The eldest looked betrayed by this information.

The second whispered, ”But Mama better.”

Swanly wanted to laugh again.

Soren turned his burned fingers toward her.

”What do you need next?”

Swanly stared at his hand.

The tips of two fingers were red. One had blistered slightly. He had burned himself and acted like the fire had insulted him by existing.

”You burned yourself.”

”It is nothing.”

”That is what everyone says when it is something.”

”What do you need next?” he repeated.

She stared at him a little longer.

Fine.

Maybe he was awful.

Maybe he was the worst.

Maybe he had hurt Kael and scared her cubs and shoved his way into her life like a snake-shaped disaster.

But he had not stopped.

That annoyed her because now she felt a tiny bit bad, and she did not want to feel bad for him.

”I need you to move,” she said. ”I am cooking.”

”I will do it.”

”No, you will not.”

His eyes narrowed.

She pointed at the pot. ”You almost lost a battle to dry leaves. I am not letting you cook soup.”

The eldest nodded seriously. ”Mama soup.”

The second nodded too. ”Mama do.”

The smallest added, ”Snake slow.”

Soren looked at him.

The smallest immediately hid behind Kael’s leg.

Swanly sighed. ”This family has no sense of self-preservation.”

The cubs started whining then, because the fire was alive, the meat was there, and their stomachs had clearly decided they were dying.

”Mama, hungry.”

”Meat now?”

”Soup now?”

Swanly pointed at them. ”If you run around this fire, nobody gets soup.”

All three froze.

For two seconds.

Then the smallest shuffled one paw to the side.

Swanly’s eyes snapped to him.

He froze again.

”Good.”

Soren watched them.

He was not hungry. He had swallowed a large prey not many days ago, and his snake body was still working through it slowly. He did not need this cooked food.

But he stayed.

He told himself it was because Swanly was strange.

Because she carried his scale.

Because he needed to know what she could do.

Because the fire was too close to her and he did not trust her with it.

That was all.

Swanly took over.

Fast.

She washed the meat with clean water from her space before anyone could ask why. She cut the red-horn marsh bull into chunks, avoiding the tougher parts with the focus of someone who knew food could decide whether a person survived another day.

She dropped meat into the pot, added water, roots, leaves, dried herbs, salt, and something spicy that made the cubs sneeze.

The smallest sneezed so hard he fell backward.

The second stared at him.

The eldest tried not to laugh and failed.

Swanly pointed her knife at all of them. ”Nobody dies before dinner.”

Kael watched her move around the fire.

Every instinct in him still disliked the flame. Fire was dangerous. Fire bit fast. Fire left scars. But Swanly moved around it as if it listened to her.

He trusted her.

That trust had become so deep so quickly it scared him.

It also made him ache.

Because Soren was watching her too.

Kael saw the snake’s gaze follow every movement of her hands. Saw the interest sharpen when she measured herbs without thinking. Saw the cold hunger in his eyes when she leaned over the pot and the firelight touched her face.

Kael’s claws flexed.

He was weak today.

That would not happen again.

He would train every day after this. Injured or not. Hungry or not. Tired or not.

If more males like Soren existed in this world, males who could look at Swanly and decide they wanted her, then Kael would become strong enough to tear them apart before they touched her.

He would never again watch another male wrap around his female while he stood there bleeding.

Never.

The soup began to smell good.

Then better than good.

Then dangerous.

The scent rolled through the cave, thick and hot, meat and herbs and salt and spice mixing in the air until even Soren’s expression shifted slightly.

Outside the cave, Riverbone noticed.

A guard walking past slowed.

A child near the root wall lifted his head.

A female who had been sorting leaves stopped with her hands full.

The smell poured out of Soren’s cave like a warm curse.

Nobody in Riverbone had smelled anything like it.

They had eaten roasted meat, raw meat, bitter roots, river shells, and dry smoked strips that had to be chewed until the jaw begged for mercy. Food filled the belly. Food kept the body standing.

Food did not smell like this.