Not Food

She practiced coiling the rope over her shoulder and keeping the claw within easy reach. She kept the claw wrapped in its fiber sheets for her own safety, and committed persistently to the practice. Her movements became smoother and she could sometimes land the clawed end in the location she wanted, but it would be a long time before she could command it like a limb.

The time to practice was a welcome change from running and hiding, and for the first time ever, she began to feel like she could defend herself. Running back and forth through the brush was scratching at her legs, but it felt like a freedom she’d never had. As the star reached its pinnacle, the heat became uncomfortable. The time had come to make for shade.

Picking a good bundle of Oil Brush from the field, she made for the tall plants further away. They looked like trees, but she’d never heard of trees being anywhere here, they were only from history. As the big plants came into focus, it was obvious they had grown here for a long time.

Why didn’t the Village get built closer to these things?

She arrived at a plentiful source of shade. Their shape was that of a larger version of the bushes she had been playing in. The trees were dense and dark, much shorter than the ones she had seen beyond the mountains but still a lot bigger than she thought was possible.

“I really don’t know anything about my home.”

Drifting through the plants she once thought were a myth, Fawn was consumed by how uneducated or possibly misinformed she actually was.

She felt the cool of their shade and enjoyed the texture of the dirt beneath her feet. The trees had a fractured bark, black with reddish sap accumulated in the cracks. There was no sign of a root system on the surface, and the soil pointed downward around the trunk of each tree, as though they had been pushed into the ground from the top and left to fend for themselves.

The foliage was an array of black capsules arranged in a fan shape from the very top of each plant. The reddish sap looked very similar to that of the Oil Brush, only darker and far more prolific. Fawn found herself wondering whether the bark would have the same flammable properties as the brush did.

Looking up at these magnificent plants, she couldn’t help but think about all the other possibilities this world might hold.

She sat against one of the trees, looking up into the branches as she tipped her head back to drink from her waterskin. There was no movement in the fronds that carried the capsules, they seemed to gather the dust as it blew past. After a time sitting quietly in the shade, she relaxed and took a deep breath. She sniffed the air, there was something new on it. The smell was that of dirt and stone ... but also ...

IT’S AN ANIMAL.

She jumped up from her seat and looked out in every direction. There was nothing to see yet, but she was sure something was coming. She began to look frantically for somewhere to hide, as a new sound broke the silence.

“Whup ... whup ... whup.”

Fawn spun toward the sound, clutching at her rope.

“What is that?”

She could smell the scent clearly, and hear that there was more than one, but still there was nothing to see.

“Whup ... whup ... whup ... whup ... whup ... ”

How many are there? I can’t just stand here.

She chose a direction and started moving. The sound came again louder than before, something was surrounding her, and getting closer quickly.

“I can’t just stand here ... Come on Fawn. Move, MOVE!”

She launched herself toward the direction with the least sound and began to run. The noise followed her for a few paces and within a moment was in front of her.

As if from nowhere, a creature comes dashing in Fawn’s direction.

She slips sideways and avoids its first strike, looking at it carefully to learn what she can as it goes by.

The creature is bipedal, lithe in build and reptilian in nature. Only a little taller than she is, it has white skin, bright-orange eyes, and a thick, wide muzzle packed with varying length teeth visible outside its mouth.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Very simplistic claws cap its upper limbs: one at the end of each short arm, long and tapering from where a wrist should have been, coated with dried blood. A dedicated predator, with no secondary purpose.

One like this must have killed that girl on the road.

It turns by digging its foot into the ground, leaning heavily to one side, then runs back toward her, at great pace.

Panicking, Fawn leaps in the air––driven by nothing more than the instinct that once had her try to leap from the Veil’s grasp.

The jump means she clears the creature easily, but lands heavily.

She unwraps the claw weapon from her side and holds onto it with both hands: there is no time to flail it or plan anything specific.

The creature turns near instantly this time and leaps toward her, leading with the strange talons that make up its forearms.

It jumps at her shoulders.

She slips sideways again and this time the creature loses its footing trying to turn in the moment.

With both hands clasped tight to her claw she swipes it at the creature, but with her eyes shut and teeth clenched she makes no contact.

She turns and jumps away from the creature, forcing it to make another fast turn. Its legs can’t fold as quickly as they need to and it falls.

As the creature scrambles to its feet to make another attack, Fawn can see others gathering around, watching the fight.

With some space to move she folds her legs beneath her.

I have to WIN this, or they will EAT me.

With renewed focus she lunges at the creature, this time leaving it no chance to recover. She glances off the side of the creature’s head as it tries to bite at her.

Its foremost four teeth are finely serrated, protruding from the top and bottom jaws far more than the rest.

The bite attempt misses her as she passes it, arms extended in front of her, holding her solitary weapon.

She lands on the other side of the creature, curling and rolling herself on the ground. It turns its head to snap once more, slashing in her direction with its strange talons.

As it comes in yet again, Fawn feels her temperament change. With no recovery time, she spins her hips and aligns her feet to leap.

Recalling what she saw the Veil do, she turns her claw in her hands, holding it at an angle, and launches herself again.

The claw catches the face of the creature as she whips past, slicing its face to the bone, and then cutting the bone as well.

The force she creates is significant, propelling her whole body’s mass with all of her strength: coiled and then released.

The creature’s face falls in half, as the claw cleaves its top jaw from bottom, to the sound of its horrendous screams. It stumbles backward, flailing its talons in a hopeless attempt to recover, as the lower piece of its face begins peeling away.

The screaming gets louder as the creature falls heavily, pouring a white liquid out all over the dark-colored ground.

Immediately, the rest of the pack around her begins their noise again, more frantic than before.

“Whup! ... whup! ... whup!”

Fawn finishes her coil, digs her feet into the ground like a primed weapon, and waits. Her eyes shift, silver, gold and black washing across them, like living crystal waiting for its next instruction. She can see the creatures’ shapes in the brush, and watches, poised.

There is a mounting tension in the air: the animals around her have gone quiet.

Then like a biological explosion, two more of the creatures jump from concealment and run at her. They come with all speed––one leaps toward her with its talons held out in front of it.

Reacting again from nothing but a reflex to survive, she rolls from the path of the thing and watches it strike its head against the tree behind her.

The second creature barrels in on her, bearing its oversized fangs, mouth open, aiming directly for her head.

This time she feels the sequence available to her, and she begins to understand more accurately the speed she can move with.

Drawing her breath, she simply steps out of its way. For the first time she feels her superiority to another animal. It is not as fast as she is, and now ... she knows it.

The first creature recovers itself and turns on her, and much as she had before, she steps back, immediately out of range. As the two close in, she grips her claw in both hands and again holds it in front of her, less afraid now, more prepared.

“What now?!”

One of them snaps at her face as she dips backward, leaving her claw in the empty space. The claw lands in the bottom jaw of the creature, piercing through and splitting its tongue.

Faster than the animal can gather itself, she jerks backward and pulls the claw through the front of its jaw, spilling its blood and teeth all over the ground.

The second one begins to snap its head left and right, clacking its jaws and stepping away. The pack noise drops as the circle of sound diminishes. She hears the breaking of foliage under many feet.

This prey was not worth further losses.

“I won a fight!”

Fawn was caught up in her celebration for a moment, and she felt so different for it.

I didn’t do it by accident ... No one saved me.

The feeling warmed her from her feet up, so much so, she almost forgot about the mess of blood, bone and teeth at her feet.

The pack had drifted away with the noise following them, the wounded one trying to follow, falling and howling in pain.

Fawn uncoiled her rope and began spinning the claw about her head.

“Stay away from me! I’m not food!”

She walked over to where the first creature had fallen. The smell was pungent and far too all-encompassing for her to stay close to it for any length of time. It was rancid and astringent. The fumes scorched her nose, and a headache drowned her thoughts simply by standing nearby.

She walked away quickly, pulling her fiber mask up tight over her nose. She was feeling great confidence having stood her ground against such a ferocious foe and come away unscathed. An empty feeling followed, as she looked around excited to share her accomplishments with ... no one.

Wandering through the trees, she began spinning her rope weapon and flicking it toward the trees, practicing her aim and working out how to release it when it caught.

There was a collection of small plants among some of the trees, as she passed through them their smell was familiar. Reaching down to gather some of them, she found they had small, light foliage and white, jacketed oval-shaped berries. She knelt down and picked a few of them.

The scent they gave off was similar to the mash she had spent her young life eating. The pods were remarkably smooth, honed from dust storms and time. Picking as many as she could, she piled them into her pack.

She was experiencing the confidence of a woman capable of survival, rather than the girl struggling to exist. The feeling helped her plan and move with purpose.

She rested back in the shade of the trees and took some time to form some basic shoes. Without any formula to follow, she simply wrapped her feet with strips of cloth cut from the bottom of her cloak.

She began to believe that her path forward was far more plausible. She had some basic food, some shoes, a weapon and a degree of faith in her ability to use it.

–Garrick M Lynch–