Bone and Blood Volume I

4 - The Nest, 1926

Hook-Nose spent four nights submerged in sand. He ignored his mounting hunger. Not even the screams of his cohort fighting over scraps drew him out. Instead, he focused on willing his wounds to heal. And the pain was subsiding. But so was his strength. He had to eat eventually.

One thing kept him from surfacing: Whenever scraps did not rain into the pit, Alpha hunted the grubs. Hook-Nose was now the weakest.

He hoped Alpha had forgotten about him. Surely, that relentless tunneling, burrowing, drilling was not Alpha looking for him. No, it must have been Digger. Afterall, on the rare occasions that Hook-Nose surfaced to examine his surroundings, he always met Digger's flounder eyes. Still daring him to die. Still not willing to take matters into her own claws.

Hook-Nose shifted as fresh bones clinked wetly down the pit walls. Tissue blobs thudded onto the ground. Shrieks as the others scrambled for them. A larger hunk splintered apart, sending fleshy shrapnel pattering across the sand. Pieces parts were still trickling down. Tonight, food was plentiful. This was Hook-Nose's best chance to feed without having to fight for it.

He wriggled around in the sand, weak and dizzy. Inch-by-inch, he dug himself to the surface. With just his eyes and nose exposed, he glanced around. Chaser gorged on an organ pile, slurping down and choking on oversized chunks.

Four-Fingers snatched a rib cage half and hurried back to Digger. Apparently, they had formed an alliance. There was plenty of unclaimed meat, but Scar did not approach. Perhaps he was sitting this meal out. His loss. Spook's absence was more alarming.

Brushing off sand, Hook-Nose rose into sitting position. He was pleased he could do that now. How about standing? A bolt of pain through his back, and he collapsed. No deal. Sighing, he tried to crawl. Possible, but excruciating. He invented an awkward crouched gait that caused minimal hurt. Fine. This was workable.

Hook-Nose crept towards the scraps. Chaser heard him and whirled around with a hiss. Then stopped. Tilting his head, he sniffed the air, not recognizing the grub before him. Hook-Nose sat as tall as he could and reached for an unclaimed bone. Chaser slapped his hand away.

Why!? There was plenty of food. No reason to fight over it! Licking his teeth, Hook-Nose tried to take a different bone. Chaser slapped his hand away. Hook-Nose reached the end of his patience. He gave a buzzing snarl that vibrated through his entire body.

Chaser pulled back ever so slightly. Hook-Nose smirked. So, Chaser was all bark. All it would take to end this was—another grub erupted from the sand, distracting him. Chaser's expression shifted to panic. He bolted to Digger and Four-Fingers. They both gurgled with displeasure but accepted his presence. The trio formed a tight pack.

No time to lose. Hook-Nose fell on the scraps, stuffing his cheeks with every morsel of fat and marrow he could strip from the bones. Even as Alpha approached, Hook-Nose kept eating. The older grub dropped menacingly to all fours by Hook-Nose. His buzzgrowl echoed through the pit.

Hook-Nose flinched. He knew he should join the rest of his cohort. That four sets of gnashing teeth would be enough to keep Alpha at bay. But he was starving. He would either get his fill now or be too weak to fight for it later. He only needed a little bit more.

And maybe Alpha was like Chaser deep down. Maybe his aggression was a buff. Was that risk worth taking?

Watching Alpha from his peripheral vision, Hook-Nose cautiously retrieved another organ. Alpha ripped the meat from Hook-Nose's hand. Crushed it. Roared another buzzgrowl. Flecks of gooey, sandy saliva spattered across Hook-Nose's face. Strike first, or strikeout.