Installment 009 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment009.png]
One last, lone gnoll came into view from around a ruined house. This gnoll was on the small side, standing nearly the height of a young-adult man. It wore nothing and carried nothing, aside from a dead deer. The gnoll's arms wrapped around the deer's neck and its jaws were still locked around the back of its head as it dragged the large deer carcass backwards. As it passed the corner of the house it looked back, and saw them. It dropped the deer and spun to face them, crouching and snarling. It looked to its dead clanmates around the bonfire, and back to the party of four. It growled.
The discussion they'd been having had removed her enthusiasm for the slaughter but Malagriel stood wearily to go finish this last one off, when she heard Bob mutter: "Poor thing."
She turned slowly and gave Bob a bug-eyed stare.
"I understand why we can't just let it go," Bob elaborated, "But it's just...well, everyone it knew is dead now and it's all alone."
Malagriel gave an exasperated sigh. "If there is such a thing as too much compassion, you have it." She lowered her sword.
"I'll do it. It's little, won't be hard," Grakthor said, standing.
"No, wait," Melissa interrupted, watching the gnoll. "I want to see what it does."
Everyone turned to look at her.
"What it'll do is run away or attack us," opined Grakthor.
"And then I will have my answer and you can kill it. But let me see what it does first, this is probably not an observation anyone has had an opportunity to make before."
"Academics...," muttered Malagriel.
"Fine," said Grakthor.
The gnoll continued growling, but neither charged nor fled. It stood, looking and listening. Its growling ceased, and it called out - a low sound like a wolf's howl, with a quick high whoop at the end, aimed downward as though it was yelling at the ground. It listened for a moment, then called out again. And then again.
"Now it seems even sadder," Bob commented.
"Will you stop that?" said Malagriel.
Melissa was smiling, eyes wide with scientific joy. "Wonderful! So that's what it sounds like! The literature describes this sound, it's believed this is an identity call. It's, well, sort of its name. This call probably means something like it's me, is anyone else there? If we hear any answers, we'll know we missed one."
"Is this really the time for a scholarly lecture?"
"Why not?" asked Melissa.
"It doesn't seem to be giving us an excuse to kill it right now, does it?" mused Bob.
"Bob...," Malagriel began, then gave up and just sheathed her sword.
The gnoll had ceased its calling and was watching them, still crouched and ready to move, but its brow furrowed in confusion.
"This one seems smarter than its former clanmates. I do believe it's actually thinking about what to do," Melissa observed.
It cocked its head, hearing but apparently not understanding. It looked away, and tried calling out one more time.
"Melissa!", Melissa called out in response. Everyone, including the gnoll, stared at her.
The gnoll called out again.
"Melissa!"
"Bob!"
Malagriel swatted Bob on the arm. "Well this is all very amusing but we still need to deal with this."
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"Yes, I think it's time we do so. No, Grakthor, please wait a moment," Melissa said, as Grakthor began to take a step forward.
The gnoll crouched lower, still uncertain.
"What?" Grakthor asked impatiently.
"I'm sure we have plenty of rope. I want to see if we can learn something from it."
"Oh. Interrogation." Grakthor opened his pack and began pulling out some rope.
The gnoll slowly took a step back.
"No you don't," said Malagriel, swiftly tapping her spectacles, tracing arcane sigils in the air, and speaking words of power.
The gnoll rose to run, but immediately flopped limply back to the ground. It snored slightly as Grakthor ran to bind it.
"Bring the deer back, too, I do like venison."
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The gnoll awoke lying on its back to see the largest of the prey-people that it had found by the bodies of what had been its clan. It was kneeling by its feet, binding them with rope. The gnoll tried to lash out only to discover that its arms were similarly crossed and bound behind it. It continued struggling as its captor finished, then stopped struggling when a painful kick struck its ribs. It wasn't an attack, really. It had obviously been simple chastisement, just the same as the members of its clan had done to each other during the frequent minor disputes over dominance. Its captor grabbed the rope binding the gnoll's legs and began dragging it towards where the corpses of its former clanmates smouldered by the bonfire.
It knew it'd be tormented for sport and then killed. There was no malice attached to this realization, that was just how things naturally went. It had noticed, though, that its head was still free. It would do its best to take a chunk or two of flesh from its tormentors before it died. It would be one last glorious expression of the violence that formed all that was left of its purpose, now that it had no clan.
Its captor and the other prey-people babbled to each other with the strange noises that seemed to pass for speech to them. The gnoll saw its captor head back to claim the deer the gnoll had hunted, as was its right. The gnoll felt a twinge of hunger and regret that it would not be able to share the deer with its clan as it had planned to.
One of the smaller prey-people took a long knife out of a pack.
The gnoll grinned excitedly, and waited for the violence to begin.
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"I don't like the way it's been looking at you since you got out that knife," Malagriel said, watching the bound gnoll suspiciously. It lay there on its back, watching Melissa with a manic grin.
"Maybe it thinks she's going to cut it loose and challenge it to a duel." Bob mused.
"I don't believe their culture, such as it is, goes for that sort of thing," Melissa said. "I would guess it's expecting the knife to be used as a weapon or torture implement against it. Their kind are not known for using cooking utensils."
Grakthor returned with the deer over his shoulder, and then set it on the ground. Melissa knelt down and began cutting portions of meat from its haunches.
"All these years and I never realized you knew how to cook," Bob said.
"I'm not really a cook, but I've performed many dissections in my research over the years" Melissa answered, "The difference between dissection and butchery is simply one of precision, isn't it?"
They scavenged some of the dead gnolls' spears as makeshift skewers, Bob saying a brief prayer over them to banish any corruption that might spread to the meat. They built a campfire, not wanting to cook over the burning bodies, and began roasting the venison.
A growl came from the captive gnoll. It was not from its throat, however, but from its stomach.
"Guess the prisoner is hungry," noted Grakthor.
"It's probably never even smelled properly cooked food before. They eat everything raw, don't they?" asked Malagriel.
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In fact, this gnoll liked cooked food very much. It was familiar with the concept after finding food being cooked by the villagers they'd been slaughtering over the past few months. It had found that as wonderful as fresh raw meat was, cooked meat was even better. It never understood how the magic fire ritual that made the cooked food worked - the times it had tried on its own the meat had become inedible blackened charcoal. And now the prey-people were performing the ritual right there in front of it.
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"We should feed it. I would like to see how it reacts. Hand me one of those...," Melissa began as she stood up.
"No," Malagriel said firmly. Melissa protested before she could say any more.
"Are you standing in the way of discovery itself, madam?"
"No. However, you are not going near that thing. You're not exactly a close-combat expert and although I trust Grakthor's skill with the rope, if that thing did manage to get to you somehow it'd tear you apart. It's immoral to starve a captive, though, so I will do it."
This placated Melissa. "Oh, good. I'll be able to observe while you do, then."
Malagriel took a piece of meat from a skewer by hand, and approached the gnoll, who sat up as best it could to watch her warily. Its eyes flicked repeatedly to the sword still sheathed on her hip.
"No, I'm not going to kill you right now," she said, though she didn't think it understood what she was saying. She hoped her tone of voice would get through at least. "I've brought you some food."
She held out the chunk of venison. Rivulets of drool emerged from the gnoll's mouth.
"That's disgusting. Here." She tossed the meat to the ground next to the gnoll, which lurched immediately to the side and contorted so it could reach it with its mouth. It sat back up, chewing with happy grunting noises.
It stared at Malagriel as she turned and walked away.