NEVERGLADE
Copyright 2013, Antisense Conscience
Transitions are the rule of the natural world, not stasis or consistency. Although regularity would be easier, it would be far more boring.
Ipe's large slitted nostrils flare to breathe in the thick forest air. Not half a solar's walk before, where he camped for the night, the scent of sand, pine, oak, and tortoises dominated the morning fog. A cool fresh morning that slowly gave ground to clear blue sparkling through frequent breaks in the dark green canopy of needles leaves. As the hike progressed with the rising sun, imperceptibly elevation decreased. Centimeter by kilometer, lost in the slight undulations of ancient dunes covered by a riot of growth and millennia of organic detritus; the original dune pattern upset by burrowing reptiles and owls and uprooted trees excavating soil by the quarter ton with their roots.
Here, the scent is changed. The dry mineral soil given way to a softer organic mix that measurably yields to Ipe's weight. Spongy, the compression forces the abundant pore water to the surface, leaving water filled four toed footprints in his wake. Aromas on the wind suggest nearby standing water and thick slowly decomposing organic matter. Closer at hand the scent of cypress, palm, and roosting birds are overwhelming.
Above it all my own stench of upland environs sickens me with my carelessness. Bad enough that my footprints stand out behind me, but with the shifting breeze anything with a nose has my passing pegged a quarter solar in advance. No wonder I haven't seen a target in 237 strides.
He leans his trident against the closest knee of a giant cypress, spots a small plot of open ground and lowers himself deliberately to his own knee and one hand before rolling onto his back. Ipe flexes his shoulders rapidly left and right repeatedly, scratching and rubbing his scales ever deeper into the soil and pore water. The soil and detritus forced into the cracks between his scales. Over and over his thick muscular tail whips back and forth, colliding with cypress knees on both sides with a resonant Thwack!
Rolling up and on his feet again, Ipe gives himself and quick sniff.
Better. Now I should smell to anything else like the ground under their feet, until nature shifts again...
A thin snap of a twig to his left triggers an instantaneous reflex response. Ipe spins while reaching with his right hand for his trident. Before the echo of the snapped twig disappears from the forest his weapon cuts a path towards its target like an osprey diving through sky and sea for an unwary fish. With a thick wet thunk and a muffled "Oof", the barbed three pointed spear finds its mark, knocking the distant shadow to the ground.
Ipe wastes no time admiring his marksmanship, his skills come with years of practice and are of no great surprise, or due to prayers for luck. In seconds he is on his prey, who is flat on his back, trident shaft standing vertically like a flag pole from the victim's chest. Ipe deliberately wraps his five fingered and clawed hands around the shaft, leaning into the trident, compressing blood from the wounds and his prey's mouth.
"Got you...," are the last words to bubble out through his hairy victim's crimson lips.
"You seem to be confused my nameless friend. You're the one on the business end of this shaft," Ipe says, bearing his 80 fangs with excitement at the thick smell of fresh blood. The delicious taste of raw flesh is his last thought as a blinding concussion turns his world to black.
***
Silence...
"Answer me!"
"We all made a promise to 'im to look after you and them boys."
"Uh huh, we gonna let you pick the best meats off this prize right here..."
Through the grogginess, pounding headache, and closed eyes Ipe can feel the finger of the last pointed in his direction. Remaining as still as possible he assesses his predicament. Arms and legs tied tightly behind his back, pulling painfully on his shoulder and hip joints. Jaws tied shut as well.
No begging or biting for now. These bastards are 'doin' me up old style' as they say.
Ipe slowly opens one eyelid to an imperceptible slit and sees what his nose and ears already told him. Standing off to his left in the small clearing surrounded by dense cypress are four hunched and hairy creatures mid-argument. All of them are covered in dark brown hair head to toe, even the female, with the exceptions of their palms, around the eyes and nose, and bottoms of their feet. Unlike the other mammals in the forest Ipe knows so well, this is the only species without even a hint of a tail. So weird, and all have short bow legs that give their species a pronounced awkward gait and appearance of being uncoordinated, slow, and ungraceful. But underestimating these little buggers is a mistake he had already made today in an unforgivable fog of nonchalance, and if he can get loose he won't make that mistake again.
"That whole monster there should be mine for what I lost! You scum can eat the leftover swamp rat from this mornin'."
"You best settle down now woman. We already made a promise to care fer you and them two little brats, and we gonna give you da prime cuts offa this one here. Anymore o' your arguin' is bound to cause trouble."
"Are you threatening me and my boys?"
"Wait now you two, now come on. Ain't no one makin' no threats here. No one gotta eat no spoilt swamp rat, and ever body gonna get their share o' this here prize monster. Shit, we should be celebratin'. We caught this murderin' sum bitch! He ain't gonna take none our folks no more."
"That's right."
"Yep."
"Maybe you boys is right. I'm sorry I didn't see the truth afore. Hell, what's the loss of my man and my boys daddy in the face of this accomplishment. We been sufferin' under fear o' this killer too long. You courageous men are gonna watch over us helpless souls, so who needs 'im. Let's eat this over-sized chicken."
"Alright! Now you talkin'!"
These poor bastards are as stupid as they smell bad, and my life is going to end at the hands of swamp trash like these. Using their own as bait...Didn't see it coming.
***
"We gotta piece him down bit by bit and keep him alive as long as possible so the meat don't turn."
"Got that right. Let's get that sweet meat on the tail first then."
NO, NO, NO, NO, NOOOO!
"One
on the front up there, and two on the tail. Let me tie off real tight
right here so he don't bleed out right away. Hold 'im still now!"
STOP, STOP, NO STOP!
"Get me that iron heatin' over on the fire now. Lets cauterize this quick."
"That one tough bastard. He didn't stop fightin' till you just burned 'im."
"Good. I hope he feel a little o' what he done."
STOP, STOP, NO STOP!
"Get me that iron heatin' over on the fire now. Lets cauterize this quick."
"That one tough bastard. He didn't stop fightin' till you just burned 'im."
"Good. I hope he feel a little o' what he done."
***
"Hey...hey...be
quiet, but wake up," Ipe hears a small whispered voice come across the
miles of unconsciousness, and a soft hand pushing against his back.
The
pain of his removed tail throbbing from the cauterized base is
immediate, and the memory of the amputation erupts through his groggy
mind. His eyes flash open, and he is looking square in the eye of a
boy.
"Shhh...shhhhh. We gonna help you, but you gotta help us. Alright? Move yo' head if you understand."
Ipe,
in his fright, assents to the boy's suggestion and forces a slight
movement of his head to the side. The pain in his skull from the
concussion reactivated with every slight twitch.
"Good. Now listen fast, and if you agree we'll cut you out."
He can feel the warm moist breeze of the boy's voice in his ear, and smell the scent of dirt, smoke, and freshly cooked meat in his clothes and hair. Behind him stands another smaller boy looking around nervously, holding Ipe's own trident pointed right at his side. The adults are nowhere to be seen.
"Pa told us afore he went huntin' to watch out for momma, and be weary of them three. He knew already he won't commin' back, and he says 'Don't let that dirty trash touch yo' momma', but they already done so...They already had their way, all three."
The boy pauses to brush back tears from his big puppy dog eyes, and gather himself to go on.
This one will be a leader if he survives this night. If he survives me...
"He ain't been gone one solar-lunar cycle, an' they already took 'er...You gotta kill em for us. We know you want to. Hell, that's what you doin' round here in the first place. Huntin' us, one by one."
"Tell 'im he taste good."
"Shut up fool!" The older boy turns back around with a grin on his face, "They gonna eat the rest of you too. Next will be ya' legs, then ya' arms. They only gonna let you die when they finally gut you. How many days you think that gonna be?"
I could kill these boys as soon as they cut me free, if that second boy doesn't skewer me first. But they know the noise will wake the adults don't they? They'll kill me right away. I can always kill these boys after the adults...
"Deal? Shake your head if you agree to kill 'em, 'cept momma and us. You leave us alone forever."
Ipe lifts his head again and moves it slightly to indicate his acceptance of terms, and the boy lifts up a hidden knife and slices through the rope.
"I'm a give you ya' hands, and put ya' trident here. You gotta free ya' self the rest the way. We'll come back after they dead."
The boys turn quickly and run off as quickly and quietly as possible away, disappearing into the underbrush close at hand.
Smart boys. After that 'taste good' jab my inclination was to gut them right away. and deal with the consequences if the adults awoke. At least there would be two less of this vermin walking and reproducing...
Ipe reaches up and unties the rope around his snout, flexing his mighty jaws, then reaches down to his thick scaled legs and unties them also. He stands and stretches his legs, arms and back with one long arching motion. A pain surges up his spine and he reaches back to touch his long muscular tail, but it's gone. Feeling the cauterized flesh were it once emerged above his legs he releases a thin hiss, and pulls his fingers away immediately. Steeled to action, he reaches down he grabs his trident.
I look forward to this...
He can feel the warm moist breeze of the boy's voice in his ear, and smell the scent of dirt, smoke, and freshly cooked meat in his clothes and hair. Behind him stands another smaller boy looking around nervously, holding Ipe's own trident pointed right at his side. The adults are nowhere to be seen.
"Pa told us afore he went huntin' to watch out for momma, and be weary of them three. He knew already he won't commin' back, and he says 'Don't let that dirty trash touch yo' momma', but they already done so...They already had their way, all three."
The boy pauses to brush back tears from his big puppy dog eyes, and gather himself to go on.
This one will be a leader if he survives this night. If he survives me...
"He ain't been gone one solar-lunar cycle, an' they already took 'er...You gotta kill em for us. We know you want to. Hell, that's what you doin' round here in the first place. Huntin' us, one by one."
"Tell 'im he taste good."
"Shut up fool!" The older boy turns back around with a grin on his face, "They gonna eat the rest of you too. Next will be ya' legs, then ya' arms. They only gonna let you die when they finally gut you. How many days you think that gonna be?"
I could kill these boys as soon as they cut me free, if that second boy doesn't skewer me first. But they know the noise will wake the adults don't they? They'll kill me right away. I can always kill these boys after the adults...
"Deal? Shake your head if you agree to kill 'em, 'cept momma and us. You leave us alone forever."
Ipe lifts his head again and moves it slightly to indicate his acceptance of terms, and the boy lifts up a hidden knife and slices through the rope.
"I'm a give you ya' hands, and put ya' trident here. You gotta free ya' self the rest the way. We'll come back after they dead."
The boys turn quickly and run off as quickly and quietly as possible away, disappearing into the underbrush close at hand.
Smart boys. After that 'taste good' jab my inclination was to gut them right away. and deal with the consequences if the adults awoke. At least there would be two less of this vermin walking and reproducing...
Ipe reaches up and unties the rope around his snout, flexing his mighty jaws, then reaches down to his thick scaled legs and unties them also. He stands and stretches his legs, arms and back with one long arching motion. A pain surges up his spine and he reaches back to touch his long muscular tail, but it's gone. Feeling the cauterized flesh were it once emerged above his legs he releases a thin hiss, and pulls his fingers away immediately. Steeled to action, he reaches down he grabs his trident.
I look forward to this...
***
Ipe can smell the adults' strong stench miked with blood in the direction of a well worn path and a large clump of thick palms. No sign of movement is visible from this side of the palms, but a low indistinguishable rustling emanates from within the clump. He slowly makes his way, staying low, silent, and frequently crouching behind trees, cypress knees, and shrubs. At last he reaches the first palm, its broad trunk and trellis of overlapping fronds providing ample cover. Concealed within the cloister of palms are ample, yet unadorned quarters covered by a palm thatched roof, a raised platform to stay dry in the wet season, and numerous hammocks strung between the many palms encircling the camp.
Laid out on the wooden platform are what Ipe initially takes for three brown fur rugs. A second look, and the rugs appear wet and stained with fresh blood.
"Come on in. Don't be shy."
The voice jolts Ipe as he whips his head around the palm to a blind spot he hadn't noticed with the unexpected discovery of three fresh pelts. The adult female stands in a dark corner of the camp, knife in hand.
"So you beat me to my quarry? Your boys freed me to save you from those brutes."
"I figured they might try that, but my brothers-in-law were more eager to have their way than I was patient for a rescue." She wipes blood off the blade with a cloth and puts it deliberately on the floor.
"You can enter. I figure you made my boys a promise, or you wouldn't be here. You can still fulfill your end o' the deal. Come help me dress these carcasses, and put up the meat. Then we can discuss how we gonna put up this hatred between our kin."
Ipe stands straight, leans his trident against the palm in front of him, "Where are the bodies?"
"Right above your head."
He looks up and brushes away a bunch of palm fronds to be confronted at eye level with the hideous skinned bodies of her three lecherous relatives hanging from the rafters by hide ropes tied to their ankles. Accustomed to the frequent sight of blood and gore, nevertheless Ipe swoons forewards from the spectacle onto the platform, an unexpected vertigo and disorientation wracking his brain.
The stories our people told around the fire at night weren't just ghost stories! The hairless killers that attack with exploding sticks and canoes that fly across the water. They didn't go extinct when the world shifted!
In a burning rage, Ipe leaps to his feet and explodes upward at the closest carcass, collapsing the unrelenting trap of his jaws and fangs into the body. Holding on by his jaw the two begin to violently spin, propelled by his lower body until the hide rope snaps and they crash to the ground. Rolling over and over in a death roll, the remaining blood in the cadvers splatters in all directions around the small encampment.
After mere seconds the attack ends, Ipe releases his steel trap grip and thrusts himself to his feet, panting with the fever of blood lust and exertion.
I've just attacked a cadaver. A body, not a 'Man'. Brave acts of vengeance and rescue today. My people will be proud.
"That won't the type of help I was expectin' with them carcasses, but at least you got one o' them down."
"Right above your head."
He looks up and brushes away a bunch of palm fronds to be confronted at eye level with the hideous skinned bodies of her three lecherous relatives hanging from the rafters by hide ropes tied to their ankles. Accustomed to the frequent sight of blood and gore, nevertheless Ipe swoons forewards from the spectacle onto the platform, an unexpected vertigo and disorientation wracking his brain.
The stories our people told around the fire at night weren't just ghost stories! The hairless killers that attack with exploding sticks and canoes that fly across the water. They didn't go extinct when the world shifted!
In a burning rage, Ipe leaps to his feet and explodes upward at the closest carcass, collapsing the unrelenting trap of his jaws and fangs into the body. Holding on by his jaw the two begin to violently spin, propelled by his lower body until the hide rope snaps and they crash to the ground. Rolling over and over in a death roll, the remaining blood in the cadvers splatters in all directions around the small encampment.
After mere seconds the attack ends, Ipe releases his steel trap grip and thrusts himself to his feet, panting with the fever of blood lust and exertion.
I've just attacked a cadaver. A body, not a 'Man'. Brave acts of vengeance and rescue today. My people will be proud.
"That won't the type of help I was expectin' with them carcasses, but at least you got one o' them down."
"I'm Chucha. We're gonna be good friends. I could tell the first time I tasted you."
No comments:
Post a Comment