Shed skin always has one last use left.

-From Aphorisms: 1:1

The neonate slept fitfully.

Vague dreams of being ripped apart, or shredded by disembodied claws, or something equally horrible plaguing her. She couldn’t remember most of it.

Small blessings are better than none. She rubbed the crust from her eyes.

The chill, her pain, and her ravenous hunger were terrible bedfellows. The hollow log that had served as her shelter from the elements left much to be desired.

The damp floor inside was just hard enough to be uncomfortable, while also being soft enough that water pooled around her, further chilling her.

It leaked in from the opening at the front of the log and also squished out from the rotting fibers. Stinking of rot.

Now cold, aching, and hungry, she slogged back out into the rain, needing to find something to eat.

Perhaps the snipbugs have moved inland as well? Where it’s flooded.

She felt her Instinct shrug inside. Possible.

She scooped sandy soil up from the ground and scrubbed, wanting to get rid of the smell of rotting wood, and her scales started to peel. Improving her mood slightly. It was a tangible sign of her growth. The first one in some time.

Need to gather something for bedding too. Cold would kill her. Something she knew so well it didn’t have to be highlighted by her hindbrain. She thought of the bark fibers at ropemaker’s tree.

Those would also work for bedding.

She had inspected the fibers more thoroughly inside the log. Smelling past the scent of the thick fingered male. She was quite sure that the fibers were from pillarwoods. It made some sense. The trees grew tall and straight, so the fibers within should be similar.

Got to watch out for Tikabo, the rain might extend their range. She wasn’t sure of that, but it would certainly let them stay out of the water longer, keeping their skin moist. Best to not take a chance.

Her Instinct grunted.

The list of things only grew, as did her frustration with the cool rain as she searched for something easy to snack on. She reached out to brush aside a vine without thinking.

Her cramped joints and knotted muscles refused to budge. Instead, all the neonate got was a grinding pain in her shoulder, making her hiss.

Leaves! Now! More! Her Instinct snarled, its demands getting harder and harder to ignore as her condition deteriorated.

Too weary to fight the one urge that she could fulfill, pushing the vine aside with her good arm, she moved to a different bush with variegated leaves. Picking a small handful.

Not too many. She had work to do, and was too close to losing what little foothold on life she had.

She stared at them for a moment, wanting to deny herself, to fight this craving. But then the pain wouldn’t stop. And she needed it to fight infection. The stinking water within the log made her worry.

Has to be another way to use it…

She finally gave in and stuffed the leaves into her mouth, chewing. Seeing no point in dwelling on the issue, her mind shifted back to the idea of rope and snares. That seemed to be the best way to get back to collecting food. At least until she learned how to hunt and track in this downpour.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Need to find some pillarwoods. She shivered as the healing herb started to work its side effects almost instantly, and purposely spat out some of the juice to slow it down.

Her Instinct remained silent. Present behind her eyes. The tiniest reminder of her cravings, not fully stated. Frustrating her as she tried to focus on important things.

The neonate’s feet squashed wetly in the mud, but fortunately the rain quickly obscured her three-toed tracks. What helped potential prey also helped her, though thinking in such terms wounded her pride. As she traveled, she kept a wary vigil for any of the other Greenscales. She made sure to tear free some scentmoss and scrub herself well too.

They’ll see my injuries, my weakness, or smell me, they’ll attack. And she had a feeling that any attack now would take away any chance of her survival, let alone the ability to recover.

She had to be sure to take all the time she needed to stay perfectly hidden.

Traveling downhill, skin blending with the background and keeping to the shadows of the undergrowth, the neonate used her other senses as well. Her tongue flickering out, nostrils flaring, ever on alert.

She tried her best to stay as dry as possible, though it was a futile effort. It wasn’t long before she was further chilled by the rain. It slowed her muscles and frayed her temper to no end. She had to hurry. She needed food! She needed warmth!

I have to figure out how to address one of these issues… Makes it hard to think.

Survive!

She longed for the sun on the rocks again. She looked up, aching for the warmth, to be able to bask once more, and had to blink away rain droplets that fell into her eye. The sky was moody with clouds, spreading out in all directions.

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No break in the weather in sight.

Monsoon.

So it won’t break for quite a while then.

Her Instinct grunted.

Starting to feel dizzy, the neonate spat out her cud of healing herbs and applied it to her belly wound first. Her body absorbed the medicine, relaxing into the dull fuzzy feeling even further. The neonate tried smearing the excess paste onto her shoulder, rubbing it into her scales. Getting it under them, in between them. Trying to get the paste to her skin.

She wasn’t sure if the poultice would do anything for the pain inside her body from outside application, but she needed to try something. She needed both arms.

The neonate wrapped both wounds in fern leaves after, both to protect it from the rain, and also to hide the off color. To her relief, her shoulder started to go numb too, the knotted muscles and tendons relaxed a fraction.

She hissed softly under the sound of the sheeting rain, moving her arm. The joint popped with a burst of pain that faded into satisfaction. Bones shifted back into their proper place.

She knew of a grove of pillartrees on the other side of the island. Through the flooded section.

She remembered the rising water, and suspected it would continue with the endless rain. Should hurry then.

May not be able to get to them now. Her Instinct realized, trying to use the thought to sneakily grab more leaves of the herb, trying to distract her by focusing on thoughts of the canopy.

She forced her hand back to her side. I’ll just have to keep my eye out for them on the way.

Something shifted in the brush to her left.

She ducked low.

Tongue flickering, useless as the precipitation pushed the scents to the soil.

Slowly, she waddled backwards, deeper into the shadows of a dense clump of whiptail reeds.

What is that? Prey?

Or a predator? Her Instinct responded darkly.

She didn’t like the idea of finding out, but hunger and curiosity teamed up to force her to stay in place. She let the reeds close in around herself. Shifting what muscles in her skin she was flexing, her scales became a series of vertical brown, green, and black lines. She was glad she had applied the moss earlier.

She wished she could see her whole body as she did that. It would be interesting to watch as she literally melted away into thin air.

It's more likely that I’d start seeing flaws in the disguise. Her Instinct chided in response to her pride.

That would be good though, see how to improve it.

Her Instinct paused, then grunted.

She focused her attentions, not just looking, but listening. Her tongue slid out from between her lips, waving up and down slowly. She breathed in through her nostrils as well.

Where are you?

She smelled it first, and recoiled at it.

The sickly-sweet reek of necrotic flesh. Infection.

When he came into view, she recognized him instantly.

A male hatchling, one eye gouged out, his face contorted by rotting flesh. Fresh wounds covered his arms, and he was missing a couple teeth. It looked like he had been in a fight with some mighty predator, or maybe several smaller ones?

He must be hunting alligator hatchlings himself now.

Her Instinct hissed in agreement.

The smell wafted around him like light around a fire, a horrible reek that nauseated at the same time it called for her to strike, to kill, to-

Cull him! Her Instinct sensed weakness. She wanted to exploit it!

No! Not yet. She fought that down and kept up her observations. It pained her, but the neonate was in no state to fight, and just looking at him she knew how any conflict between them would end.

Her bully had grown. Becoming positively gargantuan for a Greenscale, nearly six feet tall if she were to guess, even hunched over as he was. He was bulky too, as if he had been gorging daily. His tail was thick with fat, and muscles rippled under plate-like scutes, segments of bone under thick hide like a crocodile.

Twice her height, more than five times her weight. A true monster. Envy burned inside her.

He muttered to himself too quietly to hear, his remaining eye bloodshot and roving. His empty socket glistened wetly, pus continuing to ooze down one side of his face, and even in the rain flies buzzed around it.

Far too big. She stayed perfectly still, knowing that she couldn’t outpace him.

She didn’t want to chance a confrontation with him. He had every reason to hold a grudge against her, and as she was, he would kill her easily. She thought about Ropemaker’s stone shard. If she had something more practical that was as sharp… that would change things.

The neonate was surprised that he was still alive if she was honest, usually the necrosis was fatal at this point, and all of the hatchlings knew that.

A thick glob of corruption fell from his empty socket to the ground, splattering into the mud and stinking. She could see maggots squirming grossly in it.

Something about him was fascinating to her. He was a study of something being completely ruined, and in a way there was some satisfaction that washed into her at the sight.

You did that to him. Her Instinct hissed smugly. You have given him the name One-eye.

Pride surged inside her, a sustaining warmth that spread through her body as it grew.

One-eye panted, his tongue flicking out constantly.

His eye looked right at her.

She held her breath, freezing, her eyes already almost completely shut. His eye kept moving. Not seeing her.

But he didn’t move on. She needed him to leave!

Wasting daylight.

Learn! Adapt!

She tried to think of a way to hoodwink him, the itchyness of her old scales distracting her.

That’s it!

His head turned away and she reached down and grabbed a small stone. At the same time she pealed some of her scales off of her chest, wrapping the stone in them.

One-eye growled, still muttering, shaking his head so that pus spattered into the mud.

She threw the rock, and it crackled and skittered through the underbrush, hopefully leaving tiny traces of her scent as it went.

His head jerked, and his nostrils flared.

With a roar he charged off after the stone, vanishing into the undergrowth. The wretched smell lingered behind him. She could hear him still going.

She hissed in relief.

Maybe his body is fighting off the infection better than the others because of how well he is feeding?

Regardless, she was glad he was gone. She did not like the idea of a reunion with the one eyed male. That crisis averted, or rather, avoided, she continued towards center of the island, glad it was in a different direction to the one One-eye had traveled in.

Cull! Fight!

She ignored her Instinct.

She did find more scentmoss, scrubbing herself with more of it before continuing on her search for pillarwood saplings.