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"We cast you out," the village elder said. "For drinking, despite knowing you grow angry when you do, and attacking Qaniq." He nodded to the pretty young Inuit woman, one side of her covered in bandages. "You were given a chance to live here. You can live here no more."

He nodded to Yutu's captor, who cut the rawhide bonds around his wrists. It took only one stroke of the razor-sharp obsidian flake.

"Agea," said the elder, "Will make sure you leave."

The white-furred beast by his hip perked up her ears. Agea's fur made it easy to mistake her for a young nanuq, or perhaps a large and deformed wolf. Mika had seen enough of the beast to know better. Agea was a wolverine twice the size of a man. He'd heard of huge carcajous but before coming to this village he'd never seen one.

"Where am I to go?" Yutu said. He gestured at the gray sky, partly white ground, the ice on the lake and the steady fall of pinprick-sized snowflakes. It was so cold the humidity was freezing right out of the atmosphere.

"Anywhere but here," the elder said. He waved and a villager threw a bundle of clothing, a small sack of food and a well made walking stick at Yutu's feet. "If you stay, I have told Agea that she may eat you."

The big wolverine grinned, the smile widening into a jaw-cracking yawn. For a moment Yutu saw past the fangs into a slick tunnel of gullet. He'd heard, and looking into that maw believed, that Agea could swallow a man whole. Some animals could do that; he himself saw a nanuq bolt a man down alive, clothes and all, and only the white bear's pause to belch and settle its stomach gave him the chance to escape. Were it not for that he and his childhood friend Pana would both be nanuq fat now. Then there were the other bears, the big sea otters, the wolves, occasional man-eating dolphin or sea lion...

"A curse on you," Yutu growled. He scooped up the bundle and stick, the latter well wrapped with leather for a good grip, and turned away. He didn't look back when he stopped to pull on the reindeer-hide parka and gloves. Even so he was cold. They'd given him old, worn out clothing. The ruff of wolverine fur around the hood of the parka, taken from a beast a fraction Agea's size, had shed half its hairs and didn't block the wind as it should.

Fifteen minutes into his aimless trek he stopped, feeling eyes on his back. Sure enough, when he turned he saw a white shape a hundred paces back. It was Agea, sat back on her haunches and watching him out of ink-dark eyes.

"Go away!" Yutu shouted. "I've left! Go! Back to your master!"

The white shape with its dark eyes just looked at him. Enraged, Yutu bent down a grabbed a rock. When he rose again the shape was crouched down like a playful puppy...or an animal reducing its profile. With a growl of rage hurled the rock.

The wolverine gauged the flight of the missile, not even bothering to move as the rock passed five feet to its left. All Agea did in response was tilt her head quizzically to the side and look at him wide-eyed.

The wolverine's indifference to his anger made Yutu grab another rock. The second throw was more than Agea was willing to tolerate. After ducking a near miss as the fist-sized rock whizzed by she sprang to her feet and came loping toward him with her lips drawn back in a snarl.

An angry, charging wolverine is a much different prospect than one passively watching you chuck rocks at it and Yutu's nerve broke before he grabbed a third missile.

Luckily for him the huge wolverine only chased him for a few hundred yards before pulling up short. Agea sat down once more and watched him disappear over a ridge.

"Stupid beast," Yutu grumbled. She was told to make sure he left and that's what she did. It was just as well. Wolverines have tremendous endurance and had she kept it up he'd have tired first and then he'd have to fight her. The walking staff was a fair weapon but the last thing he wanted was to come to blows with a powerful beast at close range.

Yutu sat on a rock and thought. What do to now? The next village was two day's walk away and he'd been thrown out of that one too. He rifled through the supplies they'd given him. Enough dried meat and berries for a week if he was careful.

There was food and shelter within easy reach, if a man were willing to take a chance. Yutu made a ninety degree turn and headed north, making long strides with the aid of the strong bone-tipped walking staff.

The weather was miserable, the pinpoint snow thickening to fat sideways-flying flakes that reduced the visibility to nearly nothing. He sheltered in the lee of a boulder until the worst of the wind died and then continued on into a beautiful silent snowfall. He knew the area well from a year as a village hunter and after a few miles he made another ninety degree turn.

There was an outlying hut on the edge of the village territory here. The elderly couple who lived there would put up little resistance and he could take their food and better clothing, resting until the weather cleared before setting out to a new life somewhere else. with a bit of care he could make it look like a nanuq attack, albeit by one who didn't habitually swallow its prey whole.

Even the weather was improving. Yutu smiled as he shucked off the parka. Moving rapidly made one sweat even here and sweat was a ticket to hypothermia. Best to take off a layer and -

As he came over the ridge to approach the lonely homestead two dark spots bright as obsidian appeared in the snowbank ahead of him. So white was the wolverine's fur that only its eyes, dark nosepad, and a crescent of pink where the fanged maw opened gave it away.

Agea stepped forward almost casually and Yutu leapt back out of reach, dropping the parka as he whirled to run. He felt something brush his leg as the wolverine's curved white claws lashed out but then he was out of range, sprinting away. Hot fog blew from his lips as he ran through the cold and snow, glancing back once to see the she-wolverine loping after him.

Over a short distance a man can outpace a short-legged wolverine, if sufficiently motivated. Within a quarter mile he had to slow, soaked in sweat from panic and exertion and already sure the loss of the parka would get him even if the wolverine didn't. The clouds were leaden with snow once more and the white ground and white sky blended together.

He'd lost sight of Agea but knew she was following. She'd somehow gotten ahead of him on his way to the homestead, probably by using her keen hearing to sense what he was doing from the other side of the ridge. She wouldn't give up now. He'd have to evade her or kill her or he'd end the day in her stomach. He wasn't cold enough yet to want a wolverine-fur coat but he would get one just the same if he wasn't lucky.

This was very bad. He was cold, underclothed, sweaty - the worst of the three - and a wolverine the size of two men wanted to end the morning the size of three men.

And then things got even worse. When he caught a glimpse of ink-dark eyes close behind him he sprinted forward again and felt the traction go from under his feet. He'd run out onto a pond and Agea stopped where she must know the edge was. They both heard the creaks of overstressed ice and the first pop as a crack formed and Yutu slid to a stop, barely keeping his balance and afraid that any sudden movement would make the surface of the frozen pond give away.

Yutu froze, almost literally. Very gently he eased one foot forward and then the other, making his way toward the edge of the pond. He recognized the flatness of the snow that showed its extent now. Under normal circumstanced he'd see it long before he walked out onto the ice but pursuit by a hungry wolverine made him hurried and careless.

There was another creak and pop from underfoot as Agea padded unhurriedly along the shore of the pond until she was directly in front of him. She sat back and watched, smugly licking her chops and grinning as her meal approached one tentative step at a time. There was nothing for it. Yutu dropped the walking stick and spun in place to run for the far edge of the pond.

The suddenly shift of weight was too much for the ice and with a splintering crash he fell through the crust. Shockingly cold water hit him everywhere, even his face, though the pond turned out to be only armpit deep. Yutu gasped and grabbed for the crumbling edge of the hole.

Cold, so cold. The ice snapped under his weight as he tried to drag himself out into the slightly less fatal air and Yutu looked up to see a white shape. Agea spread out her huge snowshoe paws and eased onto the ice, which was stronger at the shore. Ice won't stick to a wolverine's fur - that's why parka hoods were lined with it, so breath wouldn't freeze there - so even if she fell through she could just climb out and shake herself dry. Just the same she didn't want that cold shock any more than he had. Yutu watched as her muzzle reached out and her fangs closed around the the walking-stick. Just as slowly she drew back, taking the stick with her.

Instinctively he grabbed the end before it was out of reach and the wolverine stubbornly refused to let go even when his weight made one of her forepaws go through the ice. The water there was only ankle deep and she growled irritably, shook it dry and continued to back up. The ice shelf Yutu tried to climb on snapped away but the powerful wolverine pulled him all the way to the shore and he climbed out onto the snow, so chilled by immersion in freezing water he could barely rise onto all fours. He had to get warm, and quickly, or he was a dead man.

There was a draft of air balmy as a summer day as Agea stepped forward and Yutu leaned into it, so desperate for the warmth that he hardly noticed as the wolverine's jaws slid around his head. A salivating tongue pushed against the underside of his chin and he couldn't help but push himself forward, not even caring that the warm wet flesh bringing life back into his frozen bones was the gullet of a beast that had begun to eat him alive.

A thick coating of saliva eased his journey into Agea's throat as the wolverine pushed her muzzle forward, jagged fangs scraping over Yutu's thin but tough reindeer-hide coat. The force of it made him sit down and her maw distended easily, sliding over his shoulders as she turned her nose toward the ground and simply engulfed him where he sat. Halfway down her throat he basked in the wonderful heat.

Until, finally, the warmth pressing in from all sides soaked far enough into his chilled body that the shivering stopped. Until the instinctive been to get warm ebbed. By then it was too late.

Yutu's eyes went wide in the fleshy pocket of Agea's stomach as the wolverine worked her muzzle from side to side to keep her fangs from catching in his clothing. With her jaws around his waist she sat back, easily lifting his rum,p from the ground. A toss of her muzzle got it into her jaws and a great contraction of her gullet muscles gripped him as she swallowed. Waves of muscular action washed over him, sucking his thighs into her maw as Yutu realized what was happening.

He was to the knees in a wolverine's jaws. In one or two more gulps she'd finish her meal and the last thing he'd have to worry about then was the cold. He'd been sure Agea could eat a man whole and he was right.

The slimy layer of mucus on the walls of her stomach was much like the one in her throat that lubricated him for easy swallowing, but the one down here stung his skin wherever it touched. With his face wrapped in folds of inward-pressing stomach wall and his skin tingling wherever the slime touched Yutu finally began to struggle, because that tingle was the start of something bad. Agea had begun to digest her meal.

The good news was he was finally warm again. Another crumb of comfort was the reindeer hide clothing that provided some protection from the stomach acids. There was plenty of bad news to go with. His skin stung wherever his clothes did not cover and as he squirmed he felt how slippery his coat was. It had already begun to soften, for reindeer hide is not much more of a challenge to a wolverine's gut than his own skin. The hide, the bone buttons, the leather stitching...there was nothing in the beast's stomach it could not digest and that included him. Unless he got out of here he would soon be reduced to a new layer of fat on her flanks and a pile of wolverine scat.

Agea heaved her head once again and Yutu let out a smothered scream as his sealskin mukluks slid into her jaws. Fangs closed around his toes as the wolverine readied herself to swallow him down and he squirmed frantically, thrusting his elbows against the slimy walls of her stomach. He felt the thick muscle shift around him and imagined the moving bulge in her middle as her swollen white-furred belly jerked and wobbled. He even heard her grunt as he jabbed her somewhere sensitive but it did not stop her. With a last bob of her muzzle she got his toes to the back of her jaws and the same tongue that slid across his chin gave his toes a push as she swallowed.

Yutu slid heavily down Agea's throat, pushed past the creaking ribcage into an elastic gut wrapped in dense white fur. The undulations of the gullet pushed him into the waiting stomach, whose accordion folds stretched tight as a hundred and fifty pounds of man arrived. The opening sphinctered shut behind him as the last of him slid in and Yutu squirmed, desperate to find leverage and escape the fleshy trap he found himself in.

He was more than warm now. Wet heat pressed in from all sides, the thick hot slime coating the gut squeezing into every crevice of his clothing. There was a gurgle as a more liquid form of stomach juice flowed in but it was all equally hot and it all stung his skin where it touched. Agea grunted again as he elbowed her from within but a grunt was all he got out of it. He was curled in a ball, wrapped in strong belly muscle and fur, and the slippery interior of the stomach left nothing at all to grab, no way to do more than momentarily irritate her.

If only he had a knife! The wolverine's gut gurgled and churned as more and more acid flowed in, and behind that noise was the deep, relaxed thump of her pulse. She swallowed him down with little effort and now she need merely let nature take its course. Agea would digest him in a day, two or three at most. There would be nothing recognizable at all left of Yutu but his hair, which even a wolverine could not digest. It would mix with the caribou fur from his coat and seal fur from his mukluks, making its way out of the wolverine through a long tube of intestine. Flesh and bone would go along for the ride but while he went in as a man only an expert hunter would know that from what came out.

Knife, knife! Frantically Yutu felt for any weapon, any hope. He was so slimy now it was easy to slide his hands between the stomach wall and his body, into folds of his clothing in search of rescue. There was nothing. The bag of food pressed against his side had nothing of use either, just a few more calories to add to the wolverine's heavy meal. The village elder had him searched before freeing and naturally gave him nothing that could hurt the beast's fleshy insides. Nor had he been able to find or make a weapon during his hour or two of freedom. There simple hadn't been time.

Agea knew this. The wolverine sat back on her haunches, swollen middle bulging to each side, and let out a long and somehow smug-sounding burp. The bubbles of air trapped in the gut with Yutu squeezed out as the stomach walls pressed in and his final struggle was violent but brief as his next breath took in acid rather than oxygen. By the time Agea rose to her paws the great bulge of her dropping belly was twitching more due to peristaltic action than any inner struggle. Her stomach, knowing exactly how to handle a meal like this, forced its acids into every crevice of Yutu's now still body. Bit by bit, in its own unhurried way, her guts would consume him, clothes, flesh, bone and all. He'd gone in as a man but now he was just a meal.

Agea left the village at dawn, though in the overcast and gloom of an Arctic fall dawn, day and dusk as much the same. She returned at noon the same day and the village elder, wrapped in a parka and sat on an elevated platform sometimes used to store food out of reach of nanuq and other predators, saw the white dot appear. With a smile he slid from the platform to greet her.

"Good girl," he said as he scratched her behind the ears. Agea returned much fatter than she left, which told him all he needed to know. The finely made walking staff held sideways in her jaws was another indication of Yutu's fate. Their latest troublemaker would cause no more fuss at the village.

The elder examined the walking stick. It was five feet long and in this treeless land a prized possession, a strong straight shaft of driftwood from who knew what distant land. Elaborately tooled leather straps spiraled around the upper half, set with polished stone beads. The she-wolverine had carried it so carefully in her fangs there was hardly a mark.

The first time Agea brought it back to him she was half her current size and the woman she'd run down made an uncomfortably heavy bulge in her middle. She'd grown larger over the last few years and each time he sent her out after the stick she faithfully brought it back even as its latest owner enjoyed a brief gurgling trip through her guts. Her instructions were to only eat the outcast if they tried to turn back and somehow, they always did. Or Agea was merely hungry and indiscriminate. The elder didn't worry which of those things it was. The important part was that troublemakers ceased being trouble by dint of becoming wolverine food.

Now Yutu was the bulge in her middle and the elder patted his faithful friend on the head. "Good girl. Let's get out of the wind so you can sleep it off."

Agea's ears pricked up as he used the walking staff on the way back to his hut. She'd grown up around that stick, seen the leather wrappings tanned and cleaned, seen the bone cap at the bottom replaced. She knew what it smelled like and what it sounded like when you used it as one uses a walking staff.

One of these days a ne'er-do-well would figure it out. If someone handed you the staff and sent you out of the village you were much better served to drop it and run, because if you kept it Agea would find you. Agea, whose full name means "Her stomach has no bottom."

A bit of an exaggeration, as the people she swallowed soon found it indeed did have one, but Yutu, already reduced largely to liquefied flesh and softening bone, was in no condition to argue that point. It's hard to debate a point of naming as you are being reduced to wolverine fat and droppings.

The elder retired to his sleeping furs as they entered the hut and Agea sprawled out near the walking stick, too full to share his bed as she often did.

Seven times that stick left the village and seven times Agea followed it, faithfully bringing it back. She'd learned the tricks of hunting human. Chase them into a deep snowdrift or a frozen pond, or in summer, into a marsh. Her huge feet gave her the advantage in all these places. Make sure they had no time to make a weapon, because to her a man or woman without a weapon was about as much trouble as a seal pup. They'd struggle, and kick, but down they would go, and then it was just a matter of letting her belly do its work.

The she-wolverine, full of half digested man, lay down her head and dozed. Dozed, and dreamed of what would happen when the stick left the village an eighth time. Bring back the stick, that was the rule. That she got a meal out of it each time was just a bonus.