The next bend in the river of your life might be just ahead. And it can whisk you into a meandering bayou, swift rapids, or deadly falls. Be ready for such things and you will go far, as I have.
-From Canticles: 1:17-19
The neonate couldn’t help but feel the parallel to her own hatching as she acted quickly to feed the fire, knowing it would be ravenous for tinder.
Gently idiot. Her Instinct snarled from behind her eyes.
She grabbed a fistful of still dry sticks and scraped bark from the bag. The neonate could see her fingers trembling. Pain pulsed through her blistered palms, and her excitement at her success didn’t help matters either.
Calm down. Go slowly.
Hissing out a breath, her forked tongue tasting the wood-smoke, she made herself slow down.
Small bites first.
She snapped a twig that was too long in half and put both ends onto the little flame. As it grew, she saw it demand more, consume more readily. It would grow to horrific size like the brutes from the early days of the trial, if she let it.
Wildfire! Never! Her Instinct snarled.
Small, unseen, and hidden. Like me.
Her Instinct hissed in agreement, basking in her arms and taking in the heat eagerly. They shifted to black to better absorb the heat, though flashes of bright yellow lanced through them in gentle patterns.
She had done it!
Sure, it was a bit smoky, and she wasn’t cooking anything just yet, but it was truly an achievement. She winced as she picked up another piece of firewood and it scraped the torn skin and scales of her palms. She glared at them.
Worth it?
It was, but she would have to do better if she had to restart the fire. Blood oozed from the abrasions, and she knew that she would have to apply more of the herb. Again.
The neonate clamped down on her Instinct before it could even start, feeling it struggling to break free, to be heard. She didn’t want to listen, but the efforts had the same effect.
Trying not to drool, she looked through the rain, glancing up once as lightning flashed. She hated the constant struggle against her addiction. It was what she had wanted to do to the others, and she was struggling against it herself.
That, and if I run out I have to go through the thorns again.
She had noticed that when she first scouted the place. She hadn’t thought it would be a problem, as she thought she would be over her fear at this point. Used to crawling through the thorns, confined, claustrophobic, and cut to bloody tatters.
“I will consume you.” One-eye’s voice resonated in the darker parts of her mind. She shook herself, the vertebrae in her neck crackling as the joints popped back into place.
Dig up plants. Move them here. Plant their seeds too. Her Instinct mused, jumping into the breach to distract her from the memory.
The neonate hissed as the thunder rolled overhead. A herd of migrating boulders in the sky, spooked by the predatory lightning into a stampede.
She should sleep first at the very least.
Plans can wait for tomorrow.
The neonate slept better that night. Not well, but better.
Her thoughts were much clearer now. The fire kept her warmer than she had been. The wind and the splattering rain did make it difficult to stay that way though. She placed more wood on the dwindling fire. It had also struggled, the wind and rain doing their best to try and snuff out the little flames.
Need a wall.
Adapt.
That and her nightmares had kept her from really falling asleep the previous night. Don’t know how to handle that. Not without perpetuating a different problem.
Her stomach snarled with ravenous impatience, though she felt it more than heard it. It happened at the same time a long rolling tide of thunder washed over the island, far off but persistent for several minutes.
All the work she had done was catching up to her. She needed a meal. An actual meal.
She dug out the whiptail bulbs, as shriveled as they were, and a branch she sharpened with her knife, getting even more excited. Licking her chops.
Finally!
She speared several onto the skewer. A couple she grabbed squashed wetly in her claws, reeking. She hissed and threw them away.
Rot, mold, disgusting. With her clean hand she placed the skewered ones over the fire, shaking the worst of the rot off of her other hand.
Wash. Her Instinct prompted.
As she washed her hands in the little rivulet that ran through the shelter, the warm toasty smell of roasting tubers wafted up from her cheery little fire. It pushed away the darkness, both real and in her mind, and she grunted contentedly as she returned to them, rotating them slightly.
The rain became a background rhythm, and she hissed softly in time with it. Finally, she was moving forward.
Not stagnant.
As they cooked, she gulped water from a miniature waterfall that started on the tree before being diverted by the tree and the roof of her shelter. She wanted to quiet her angry stomach for the moment, not needing a distraction while she planned her next move.
More food, as usual, but she wanted to start pushing back against the others now that she had a foothold somewhere safe.
At the very least I could see about breaking that log down and taking the remaining grubs.
Not all. Emergency meal.
True, though as time goes on the others will also get desperate, and might come across that resource.
She didn’t want to let any of the others have anything she could take from them. Her eyes shifted to the pile of punky wood. Could keep them alive, put them there.
Her Instinct grunted, sliding into her tongue as she licked a claw clean. The neonate winced as her blisters got stung by the hot food. She licked at them as well, cleaning them of any fragments.
She was happy to have something somewhat substantial in her belly, and he whiptail bulbs warmed her even more as well. Clearing her thoughts.
She looked at the exit through the thorns and shook her head, neck crackling. I’ll have to bring anything back through there.
Thunder snapped off in the distance. Sounding odd. Almost two separate bursts? She ignored it.
Focus on getting out first, then with that behind me I can decide.
Yes. Eat.
She looked at the fire, wondering at how to keep it going with her away.
Then she remembered how Tok had fed them.
Good, learn!
She dug through the woodpile she had placed under the roof of her shelter, and found a larger log, hauling it out and dragging it over.
If worst came to worst she could get another one going, but she didn’t want to have to do that.
She gently placed the log into the fire pit, taking care to not smother the neonate-fire.
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Nibble at that little one.
With her little experiment in place, she gathered up some supplies and headed back out into the rain. She left the magic bag behind, and had emptied out the other pouches and sacks into it. Tying each to a belt she made with rope. She also took her snares and some other oddments too. And of course, her knife.
At the edge of her new territory, the neonate took a moment, working up the resolve to face the cramped passages of the thorns once again.
Never stop fighting.
Survive! Thrive!
She ducked low and crawled into the warren, back into her personal hell.
Sometime later the neonate made her way out of the tangle of thorns and vines. She was starting to get better at avoiding them, only getting a few new scratches and cuts along the way.
The experience was still horrible however, and she had to shelter under a shrub as she gasped quietly for a moment or two. Giving her racing heart a chance to slow back down.
I need to make a better way in and out, or find one, or something!
Her Instinct growled softly, concerned.
It couldn’t be used by the others. Otherwise, she would have to just deal with the thorns both out of and into her base.
Look while hunting. Her Instinct said as the rain got worse, more thunder snarling through the sky.
Once she had gathered herself, she climbed up into a buttress tree. She wasn’t happy with what she saw. There was nothing obvious, no way that she could see in or out. Even the way she was using currently was hard to spot from above.
I suppose that is a good thing though. Less likely to be found.
Weak.
She winced at the tone her Instinct had, though she knew it was just because she was frustrated with herself. As well as how long she was taking to try and solve a problem that shouldn’t be any difficulty. Not for a Greenscale that was worthy of a name.
And I know I am worthy of one… Aren’t I?
She didn’t let either part of her mind answer that. She had food to hunt, and rivals to compete with.
In the middle of pondering her next move was when she heard it.
The cascading slosh of the river, and the heavy footfalls of the Provider. She turned on her branch to face him as he came up and out of the water. Several crocodiles scrambled away, ones she hadn’t noticed, as he passed.
A good reminder. Her Instinct growled.
He was carrying two large gulpers, one over each shoulder. She could hear one of the others already scrambling through the underbrush to the nesting sight where Tok would drop his catch off.
Same path, every time.
It was an oddity that she had noticed before.
Wait…
Her mind reeled. She finally was warm, fed, and recovered enough to understand just why that was so important to her.
That food is for any hatchlings that can get to it! She thought it through, and came to a life-changing conclusion.
Her Instinct leaped into her widening eyes. She could feel the agreement building.
Food, that was for whoever got to it first, to do with as they pleased.
Her stomach grumbled again, and that decided her.
She leaped down from the branches of the tree onto the massive Provider’s back. He hissed as her toeclaws gripped slightly in her haste, but she ignored him. She could feel one of his crimson eyes staring. He didn’t stop her, even as she climbed onto one of the gulpers, and confidence surged within her.
I was right!
She lamented not coming to this realization sooner, tearing into the flesh of the gulper with her teeth alone, wrenching back and forth and tearing free dripping gobbets.
Consume! Devour!
This was perfect! She could ‘ambush’ the food delivery.
He wasn’t helping by letting her do that either, any of the others could do exactly what she was doing too, if they figured it out.
What a revelation!
This was inspired!
This…
She tore another gobbet free and looked at what was left.
This was also taking far too long. She felt the matte black blade in its sheath, hanging from her belt of rope.
Feed! Feed now!
She tore the weapon out, knuckles cracking around the handle as her grip tightened. She carved another large piece free, swallowing before she gripped the flesh of the creature with one hand to hold it and herself steady.
So many days getting by on nothing! So many cycles of the moon with just scraps. So many times beaten bloody into the dirt and left to starve by the others.
Never again.
She snarled quietly and stabbed into the gulper, the black blade whispering into it with ease. Using her knife, she sliced off large chunks of the fish, blood dripping out. Gorging with ravenous abandon, stopping only when it felt like she might be sick from eating so much.
More! Take MORE! Her Instinct screamed, and she agreed.
She had to increase the challenge too. And more.
Let them feel my revenge.
Plus, if she got the competition to progress quickly enough, the neonate might just be one of the finalists. She glanced up, seeing the clearing of the nesting area. She wouldn’t have to worry about scent, not with the deluge still in full swing, but if they saw her…
She could hear the others getting closer, already squabbling!
Quickly!
She plunged her knife into the fish again. As fast as she could, fighting through the pain of her blistered palm, she sliced off a large section of tail meat.
The neonate glanced up. She could see the clearing where the old nest was.
Faster!
She wobbled as she slung it over her shoulder before she scrambled back into the trees.
Just in time, as Tok entered the clearing, and she spotted several of her brood. They were bigger than her, much bigger, but none were any she had taken particular notice of before.
Satisfaction blossomed as a few of them noted that there was even less meat than they expected, hissing and turning to contest their rivals before even getting close. She felt satisfied in knowing they wouldn’t understand what had happened. None of them looked to the trees where she hid.
Idiots are probably wondering how it happened.
Good! Dominate!
They might even think Tok is doing it. He has brought in partial kills before.
Fools. Her Instinct whispered gleefully as one of the others bit two fingers off of another.
With the smallest briefest flicker of smug orange, the neonate slunk away from the squabbling, already planning her next move against the group.
The neonate took her time, slowed by her haul and fullness. The blood that soaked her and the gulper tail was quickly washed away by the rain.
Good, little chance of leaving a scent trail now.
I will remain vigilant. Her Instinct admonished.
The constant paranoia had yet to do her wrong. She made sure to travel away from the base at first, using every chance to double back, to use the scent producing moss, to change which tree she was in as she went.
She worried about the fire going out, but there was nothing else for it. Peace of mind was more important to her right then.
I will multitask though.
It was boring to not be doing something productive anyway, and this was a wonderful opportunity to explore. With food in her belly, she was even optimistic enough to start to think of the future. Of leaving the island. Of seeing what smoothskins were actually like.
She moved quickly back to the thorns, doubling back, a few times to make sure she wasn’t followed. Climbing above a big python she spotted in the lower branches. Using the moss to scrub herself.
She found a big hearty bush of herbs and she raided it for leaves, needing them for her hands anyway. She noticed that it also had berries, growing in a tight cluster with about a score of fruits.
Interesting. She hadn’t seen them before. Must be in season now.
They were an ugly greenish blue, almost turquoise, and dirty yellow. They each had a pattern that made them look as if the one color was unevenly rubbing off, revealing the other.
The fruits themselves looked bloated, as if ready to burst. She sniffed them, letting her tongue slide out. She couldn’t decide if the sweet smell they had was too cloying or enticing. They were easy to tell apart from the berries she knew were safe to eat.
Seeds! Adapt!
She grabbed them, putting them in one of the pouches. She wasn’t sure if they were edible, but they would grow more herb inside the thorns.
Better than trying to transplant a whole bush. She looked at the ugly herb berries again. Maybe I could test them on one of the others?
Her Instinct grunted at that.
Now on the ground, hands full with meat, bags full of leaves and berries, she made a beeline back to her base.
She wanted to stash her prize before any of the others found her. She made a point to gather some sturdy branches and sticks, wanting to butcher up the gulper meat and cook it with her fire. She thought she knew just how Tok had dried out the meat at his shelter.
One traumatizing and annoyingly painful squeeze through the warren of thorns later, she was back next to the fire. Her little experiment had worked, though it was down to coals by the time she got back, and she had to pile on more wood to get it going again in earnest. Literally breathing life into it.
She sliced the tail meat into thin strips with her knife. She only partially enjoyed the feeling of amused dizziness she had from chewing up more of the leaves. She was glad that her hands were now numb, her palms coated with the poultice and wrapped in ferns.
She sliced the fish thinner still, unhappy with her first attempt. The meat she had stolen from Tok’s camp had been very very thin, and she thought it had been cooked with fire. It had had a wonderful smokey taste after all.
Dried meat should last longer. Her Instinct hissed.
She only realized that she was just sitting there staring when lightning forked across the sky. She was almost instantly distracted again as the brightness of the natural phenomena left appealing purple and blue streaks across her vision.
Have to stop getting hurt.
Yes.
Forcing herself to focus, she tried again to slice the fish as thin as she had seen before at Tok’s camp. Finally pleased with the results, she skewered some on the stout sticks she had collected, pressing the other end of each into the dirt close to the fire.
She started to drool. Her immediate area started to smell delicious, even more so than when she had cooked the whiptail bulbs. And for the first time, she was happy not eating something that smelled so good.
Can save it for later.
Stockpile. Good!
The wind blew through the open structure, chilling her and making the fire gutter. Worried she moved around to the other side, shielding the flames from the worst of the wind.
She blinked. Her wandering mind shifting to the ruins. Stacked stones. That’s it! A wall!
She chose larger pieces of wood to place on the fire so that they would burn longer, sending up another delightful cascade of dancing swirling sparks. The wind challenged the flame, making it waver, but the flame stubbornly fought back, only growing hotter.
“Good little fire.” She hissed, pleased.
She staggered through the rain to pile of smooth rocks, the ones her Instinct had said not to use for the fire pit. There were a lot of them.
Use these and mud. The fire had dried out her bed, it should do the same for the walls.
The rain had slackened again to a drizzle, and the fire and food had heated her enough that she could stand to be out in it while she moved the stones closer, placing the first layer along either side of her shelter. Then a layer of mud, then a layer of stones.
It was slow work, but the calm nature of it was soothing to her, and by the end of the night she had some partial walls on two sides of her nest, protecting the fire.
She slept well that night, much warmer, dry, and with dreamless sleep.
The next day she only had a mild headache, and she had plenty of dried fish to eat. Warm and dry, she was in a particularly good mood, and her hands were healed enough that she didn’t need more of the herb, which meant she could head back out in search of other ways to compete.
It didn’t make her trek out through the thorns any easier, but she recovered more quickly.
Right, so I gotta go an-
Crackew!
Birds screeched and took to the sky on the far bank.
It was close this time, the not-thunder! She looked over at it. She might be able to see it from the bank… whatever it was.
Danger. AVOID.
Just going to look. She headed off in that direction.