《He-Thing and the Cabal of the Cosmos》Nasha the Serious
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Nasha the Serious
led Shadow-Thing away from
the cooking boar,
to the far side of the village,
where her hut lay,
generously apart
from the others.
She pushed aside the drape door,
and dragged him in.
Inside was an uneven circle,
lit by the smoke hole above the hearth,
where silver-yellow sunlight shone
into the dwelling
in a warm glow.
There was a mat bed,
a small table with a mortar and pestle,
and a small altar,
with flickering candles,
and painted icons.
An iron pot hung over the fire,
from which sprung
a scent
that flooded Shadow-Thing’s nostrils,
seared his brain,
and poured saliva into his mouth.
He bent his head
to inhale it,
laying his hand on the rim of the pot.
Immediately he drew his arm back,
HOT!
“Alright, you’re hungry, I understand,”
Nasha said, reaching for a ladle
and a wooden bowl.
She scooped some of the stew out
and handed it to him.
Shadow-Thing lifted the bowl
to his mouth,
slurping, gobbling, sucking, and snorting
in his first experience consuming food.
“You’re a damn animal,” said Nasha.
When Shadow-Thing had emptied
the bowl,
he lowered it from his face,
and pushed it back to
Nasha.
Stew gravy was stuck
to his chin, his cheeks,
slathered his lips,
and dotted the tip of his nose.
Nasha rolled her eyes,
and refilled the bowl.
Shadow-Thing consumed this
with as much relish,
and then, smiling at Nasha,
pushed the bowl to her again.
“What am I going to eat?”
she asked him, lifting her hands.
“You’ve had enough. You’re gonna get sick.”
His face fell in disappointment,
but he did not seem inclined to argue.
A heaviness soaked into
Shadow-Thing’s body
along with an
impervious optimism.
He was truly satisfied,
and the food settled
into his belly
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like coins into a treasury.
Nasha handed him a cloth,
which he took,
not knowing what to do with it.
“Oh, for the sake
of the All-or-Nothing!”
Nasha exclaimed.
She took the cloth
and cleaned off
Shadow-Thing’s face,
scrubbing at his skin
until there wasn’t a speck left.
“There,” she said at last.
He smiled at her.
“Gruh...”
Shadow-Thing said.
He wanted to express
how grateful he was.
“Gruh!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,”
said Nasha,
as she scooped a bowl of stew
for herself,
which Shadow-Thing eyed
with envy.
She sniffed the stew suspiciously.
“I’m a real culinary genius,”
she quipped.
Nasha looked Shadow-Thing
up and down.
“Honey, you need some clothes.
You’re flopping around
like a shark
on the sand.”
What few tunics Nasha had
were too small for Shadow-Thing,
but she took one and wrapped it
around his waist,
binding it to him
with a leather strap.
In her nearness too him,
Shadow-Thing drew in her scent,
which made him delirious,
and as he looked down upon her,
he could see the curves of her breasts
beneath the neckline
of her tunic.
His groin hardened painfully,
but Nasha ignored it
and finished her work,
covering his modesty.
“There,” said Nasha the Serious.
“Now you’re almost
civilized.”
Shadow-Thing was incredibly tired,
and, feeling safe,
sunk down to sit on the floor,
leaning his head against the wall.
His head was so heavy.
His eyes closed
through no intention of his own.
Nasha watched him
as she finished her stew.
“Sleep, animal,”
she said softly.
“Sleep.”
Shadow-Thing
began to snore.
Nasha began
to bite her lip.
to be continued...
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