Come Sit By My fire
By PEJA
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Summary:
Come Sit By My Fire
By PEJA
The illness came to him at the worst possible time. Hunting had been bad for weeks. His meat supply was dwindling to nothing. The heat had withered away the bulk of the berries and wild vegetables and he’d had to roam farther and farther for less and less.
At first he’d thought he’d gotten some bad water on one of his hunting excursions, but as the days flowed slowly into a week and his stomach cramps had gained power with the addition of alternating fever and chills, and then a headache that near blinded him to anything but his pain, he came to the self-admission that he was well and truly caught in the grip of a merciless bug.
And now, he was finding taking a full breath the sheerest of agonies, each breath deeper than a morsel hurtling him into a coughing and gagging fit that left this throat raw and bleeding.
Staggering to his feet, he took the first steps toward hell on earth.
*
Arriving at the open market in the early part of the morning, he registered himself and selected a heavy, chain choke collar instead of one of the more usual leather, suede or jeweled ones, reasoning that if he was unlucky there was a very good possiblity that his pain would be ended more quickly by a careless tug.
He attached a heavy leash, also of hard chain link to the collar and, leading his horse, made his way through the bustling marketplace, choosing a more remote area to the center of the crush.
His movements sluggish, he laid out his blanket on the ground and struck a fire in the provided pit. The sun beat down on his head sending his pain to new heights as he knelt in the open market. He’d laid out his books with trembling hands that first hour, offering his knowledge to the buyers.
No one gave him more than a cursory glance.
After several hours he’d added a canteen of spring water, offering his holdings.
A woman had stopped briefly, but when he’d curled over in a fit of coughing she’d turned her back with a sniff and passed him by, taking up the leash of a man several mats down instead.
Hours passed and as the sun hit its zeneth over him, he drew a white glass bowl from his saddle bag and pulled the skinning knife from the sheath at his waist. Drawing a deep breath, he slit his thumb over the bowl and carefully dribbled his blood into the virgin glass.
Across the market a man watched as he squeezed more blood from his thumb, covering the bottom with the essence of his life. He wiped his blade on a white cloth, then and laid the knife on the blanket, offering his arm in combat. The bowl and bloody cloth followed, an offering of his very life.
The big man, interest aroused, approached, watching the gently swaying creature on the mat.
Several others came close, but the big man’s growl and narrowed gaze sent them scurrying away.
Close to exhaustion, the ill man dared a glance at the other. "I have nothing else to offer."
"You don’t think so?"
Pale already, his skin went translucent under the steady gaze.
He tugged the hem of his shirt up and over his head, exposing his upper body to the other’s emotionless gaze.
The man wanted more.
He opened his pants and laid his groin open to the man. The offer was clear.
"Come sit by my fire, sir." He added just the same.
The big man sauntered the last bit of distance toward him. He walked around his kneeling body, tangling his fingers in the russet curls that hung past his shoulders.
Wincing, the smaller man let himself be tugged to his feet by his hair.
The big man was suddenly standing before him, staring into his eyes.
The leash dangled before his eyes, clenched in his master’s grasp.
"The clan’s healer will see you." He said softly. "When you are stronger, you will learn what it is to belong to me."
END
(or not...)