"Life used to be good," Agu muttered bitterly. "But here I am, reduced to a thief."
He was stuffing jerky into a sack—fine wolf meat, the kind their late leader had hoarded for himself. His hands trembled slightly as he worked, driven by equal parts hunger and fear.
"It's too much," he said under his breath. He looked at the half-filled sack. It stood nearly as tall as his chest, maybe eighty, ninety catties of meat. More than enough to get him killed if anyone caught him.
The faint creak of a hinge broke the silence.
The door behind him was opening—soundless but deliberate.
Before Agu could turn, a cold hand clamped over his mouth. A flash of steel glinted in the torchlight—a saber pressed gently but unmistakably against his throat.
"Mmff—!" Agu froze, eyes wide in terror.
"Don't move," a hoarse voice whispered in his ear. "Or I'll open a second mouth in your neck."
The chill of the blade sent shivers through him. Sweat broke out across his brow.
