The Salt Lad

A hunter had been in the woods for weeks. There were many luxuries that he missed, but most of all a lover’s touch.

Sitting in his hunting blind, waiting for deer, he spent many hours staring at a salt lick. The salt lick had originally been a lump, but the deer had shaped it with their tongues. The hunter had a good imagination. He could imagine he saw thighs, calves, and feet. He could imagine arms, shoulders, and a neck. Eventually he was able to imagine an entire silhouette.

Under his gaze, the salt lick became a salt lad.

The hunter brought the salt lad back to his campsite. He pointed out the amenities — the cookfire, the sleeping palette, the latrine — and then excused himself to bathe. He was surprised by how nervous he felt, like he was entertaining a lover for the first time. There was no reason to hurry, the hunter told himself. He took extra care to clean his body, especially under his fingernails, where the deer blood had stained his skin.

“I won’t do anything you don’t like,” the hunter promised the salt lad.

“You’re sweet,” the salt lad said.

The hunter laughed at his joke — salty and sweet — and immediately worried that he’d laughed too loud. How did he normally laugh? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t trust himself to behave like a normal person.

The hunter dropped to his hands and knees.

He began to lick between the salt lad’s toes. He wondered if his tongue felt better or worse than a deer’s tongue — probably worse, he thought, thicker and more clumsy. But he could please the salt lad better than any deer could, he assured himself. The hunter sucked on each of the salt lad’s toes. He could feel the digits start to dissolve.

“Maybe it’s time for a break,” the salt lad suggested.

The hunter blushed. His lips were puckered, so he drank a glass of water. As soon he’d satisfied his thirst he tried to resume, but the salt lad stopped him. He didn’t feel like having his toes licked or sucked anymore, he said — or his elbows or knees, for that matter, both of which the hunter also proposed. The salt lad looked bored.

The hunter felt a rising sense of panic.

“I love you,” he said.

The salt lad snorted, sounding like a deer. “No, you don’t,” he protested.

“But I do!” the hunter insisted. “I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known. Don’t you believe me?”

He was desperate to convince the salt lad of his feelings. Did the salt lad want jewelry or expensive clothing? The hunter would pay for it. Did he want to get married? The hunter would marry him. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t compose himself. Even worse was the bemused expression on the salt lad’s face. The more desperate the hunter sounded, the less interested the salt lad appeared to be.

Finally the salt lad took pity on him.

“Get on the ground,” he said.

The salt lad didn’t want him on his hands and knees. He wanted the hunter to lay on his back, he said, so he could sit on his chest. The salt lad weighed no less than a normal boy, which made it difficult to breathe, but the hunter didn’t complain. He didn’t even object. The salt lad was so clear and confident that the hunter was glad to obey.

The salt lad put his fingers in the hunter’s mouth. He instructed the hunter not to gag as he reached over his tongue and down his throat. The hunter focused on not panicking, but he couldn’t prevent the tears that came to his eyes. He wondered if the deer were watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening.