Page 30 of Corvak's Challenge

"Tomorrow, then. For tonight, I shall rub your poor mistreated feet and take care of you." And he kneads the arch of my foot, eliciting a groan from me.

Okay, well, if he wants to give me a foot rub, I'll stand my ground about this whole ownership thing tomorrow. For now, I'm enjoying the pampering, even if it does make me incredibly horny. I squeeze my thighs tightly together and hope that our fuzzy friends bail on us in the morning, because I'm itching to touch Corvak, and I can't with all of them hanging around.

The stink of them is definitely a turn-off. Imagining their fascinated gazes as I jiggle Corvak's balls? Horrifying.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

CORVAK

The strange snow-peoplefill me with ideas.

They're not gone in the morning. From the moment I wake up, their scent is in my nose, drowning out the sweet smell of Aidy's arousal. Even with them around, it is difficult to resist her. It does not matter that we are both tired and sweaty from travel—I would lick her all over given the chance. I live to watch her small movements, the tuck of a bit of hair behind one ear, the way her lashes flutter when she awakens, the dart of her tongue as she licks her lips.

She worries over the snow-people, and so I will take them on as my problem.

Now that they have seen my strength, they cower and bow whenever I approach. Aidy tries to communicate with them, using hand signals and repeated words, and she makes some headway with one female that seems more intelligent than the rest. When we need to speak, Aidy seeks that one out. She speaks to them as I break down the camp and repack things. Without as much food supplies, I manage to fit it all into one pack, so that I can give Aidy a break. She does not complain, but I don't likehow her soft, delicate feet are faring. She has no callus, no built-up natural resistance to long walks.

Just as a clone would not, either. It is a thought I keep to myself.

When we set off in the morning, I am not surprised that they follow behind. Aidy gives me worried looks, but I don't let our stragglers bother me. As long as they remain quiet—and they are trying, judging from the muffled hoots—it should not be a death sentence. We head away from the fallen star, because I worry that someone else is going to come investigate it, looking for gear. The best thing we can do is go away from it, and find someplace with game and a defensible location to establish a fortress.

As we walk, I study the snows and the scents.

There is game in the area, the wind holding steady and bringing their scents toward me instead of the other way around. It is a good sign, even if I cannot abandon Aidy to go hunt. Even now, her steps are slow and tired despite a full night's sleep. She needs more rest. I want to find a defensible place soon.

The snows tell me other things. With the fresh blanket of snow coating everything, it is easy to see tracks. There are tiny ones from smaller creatures, and a few from a massive round-footed creature that I do not wish to run into. Probably an herbivore with those rounded feet, but you never know. There are lots of tracks in the snows, but none from our fellow gladiators.

This is a good sign.

Later in the morning, as we walk, I could swear the number of snow-people following us grows. As we cut through a low-lying valley for the mountainous slope on the far side, I turn to see how our stragglers are keeping up. As I watch, three more snow-people join the cluster trailing behind us.

"More are joining," I say to Aidy.

She bites her lip. "What do we do?"

"Nothing. We let them join."

The new snow-people hoot wildly, only to stop once they join the others. We continue on for a time, when the hooting begins again. Aidy and I stop and she turns, making the "quiet" gesture. I pause, too, because they could be alerting us to danger.

One of the males—one of the bigger ones—has pounced on something. As I watch, he hauls it out of a snowy den and holds it up in the air. It is a smaller creature, much like the one I stole my khui from, and it kicks and squirms, desperately trying to break free. The snow-man races to my side, holding out the creature for me to take. Nearby, another digs at the base of a straggly looking bush and pulls it up, revealing a thick taproot.

And a new idea blossoms.

These snow-people are not a problem.

They are anarmy.

And as long as I feed them, they are at my command. No one will be able to defeat us if we are surrounded with a loyal army. It does not matter if they can fight. I can teach them how to fight. What matters are numbers and a defensible position.

I like this new idea, very much.

Then again, I like any idea that involves myself and Aidy winning this scenario. It is a much broader one than I had anticipated. In the memory banks I have, the games were always established with set boundaries. Supplies would be dropped, and new aspects of the game would be unveiled. The winner would get a female once the game wascompleted.Some of the rules are different now, but as the differences pile up, I start to wonder why this is so. Is there something else going on that we are unaware of?And if so, what?

Hopefully it is nothing an army cannot take care of.

I take the squirming animal from the snow-people, thank the creature for its sacrifice, and kill it swiftly. "This will be the start of tonight's stew."

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