“And I ain’t your pal, buddy.” From his sash he pulls a stick, long and pointy at one end but skewered on it were chunks of meat. Big, fatty cubes of sweet delicious meat. He hovered it over the flickering flame, allowing the already cooked meat to warm and drip with fat. “I could share some, but maybe I’ll let you go hungry, that way I could rob you when you faint from starvation.”
A resounding growl emits from where his stomach clenches painfully, the excruciation of it leaving him a little short of breath. How long had it been since he had meat that wasn’t stringy, sun-dried foodstuffs? Two whole months? Or was it closer now to three? The Selkie swallows hard, tearing saucerful eyes away from the glistening instrument of his torture. “I-In it for the long haul, huh?” Words intended to seem tough sound more pathetic than anything, especially with the unspoken implication that he was used to going hungry. “All right, pal. Two can play at that game.”
