I slumped against the tree, fanning myself. The Snake is cool, the Tiger is hot, and I am emotionally exhausted.
I looked across the clearing. Two B.A.D.s down. Two to go.
Lord Rurik Jaeger didn't do romantic gestures. He did provider gestures.
While the others were setting up plates, Rurik vanished into the woods. He returned ten minutes later, dragging a massive, freshly caught Wild-Boar.
He dropped the carcass right in front of my blanket. THUD.
"Fresh," Rurik grunted, wiping a speck of blood from his cheek. He looked like a barbaric god of the hunt—wild, dangerous, and oddly proud. "For you."
I stared at the dead boar.
My prey instincts screamed: Run! Dead thing! Danger! But my Top Chef instincts screamed louder: Oh my god. Look at the marbling.
This wasn't just a pig. This was a Dusk-Tusk Boar. In my old world, wild boar of this quality would cost a fortune. The fat cap was pristine white. The muscle was a deep, rich ruby red. It was magnificent.
