- Text Size +

 

The enraged beast swung its skeletal paw in a wide upward arc, rending a knotted branch from the Aezock tree. Splinters of bark rained down on its broad head, sticking to exposed patches of weeping tissue and tar encrusted fur. Peric rattled with the tree, then climbed higher until the limbs would no longer support his weight.

He cursed his luck. No sooner had he sent his own beast out hunting, than a Tarlo appeared. After ransacking his campsite, it had chased him up a tree, holding him captive from daybreak until the morning mists had evaporated. It showed no signs of tiring either. With each wild swing, its frenzied howl gained volume, and its scythe-like talons carved deeper rivets into the tree’s trunk.

For the hundredth time, he blasted the ebony whistle hanging from the chain around his neck. Though it produced no sound to his own ears, any Fyth in the vicinity should be able to hear it. Only one Fyth inhabited this miserable planet, but she was enough, assuming she ever showed up.

The Tarlo slammed it’s side against the tree, eliciting a series of low pops, roots separating from their earthly moorings. The tree swayed, then tilted as the beast leaned into it. One more hit like that, and —

Out of nowhere, an enormous hand descended upon the beast, catching its massive head and muffling its dreadful howl. It clawed at the hand, opening wounds that bled dark green. A face appeared too — Onia. Her vapid expression blocked his view, and her dull eyes bored into him.

“What are you waiting for?”

She blinked twice, the catlike corners of her mouth pointing down.

“Kill it!”

Bones crunched and the howling ceased. Onia’s dumb face retreated. The Tarlo’s body hung limp from fingers that grasped its head like an organic stress ball.

“Release it and get me down.”

She dropped the beast’s mangled head and lifted her hand — her tar speckled, blood drenched, utterly disgusting hand.

“Your. Other. Hand.”

She obeyed, and he stepped onto a clean palm. Clean for a Fyth. Though soiled with dirt and sap, it at least hadn’t been used to slaughter a Tarlo recently.

She lowered him right beside the foul beast, then sat cross legged in the clearing, licking her filthy appendage. He retrieved his axe from a nearby stump and examined the task before him. The cervical vertebra had been separated, pushed through the front of the creature’s throat by Onia’s fingers, but the misshapen head remained attached. One dead eye hung from its socket by purple vessels, accusing him, promising revenge in some future life.

He hacked at the Tarlo’s thick neck, chopping through sinew, muscle, and tendon. The eye swung like a pendulum, bouncing on an exposed bone that jutted through the beast’s nose. Eventually, the head toppled to the ground with a thump, spilling dark fluid from its mouth and eye socket.

After selecting a location furthest from the discharged brain matter, he leaned against the beast’s fur and heaved. The head didn’t budge. With some difficulty, he disengaged. Tendrils of sticky tar connected his skin to the fur.

“Fuuuuuck!”

He stumbled back, dripping sweat in the cool mid afternoon air.

“Get rid of it!” He pointed to the head.

Onia’s arm barrelled past like a land frigate, displacing air as it passed. Wind slapped his drenched hair against his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, the head was gone, a pool of viscous blood the only reminder of it’s presence. Perhaps not the only reminder. He removed his t-shirt and it stuck to his mid-length hair, pulling strands along with it.

“Tongue.”

He hopped onto her hand and waited until she lifted him to her open mouth. He stuck his arm in, up to his shoulder, and winced as her oral muscle slid against his skin, an alternating texture, like that of sandpaper and slime. After several seconds, her tongue extended and lapped at the sticky side of his face and hair.

“Enough!” He fell back against her fingers, then righted himself. Though clean, he now reeked of Aezock sap, a pungent aroma reminiscent of Earth’s pine trees. Even after drying himself with dangling locks of her coarse hair, the stench remained.

He stomped his boot against her palm and glared at her. “Show harvest.”

Seconds later, her other hand appeared, bearing a satchel the size of a commercial dumpster. She’d already opened the top and held it lower in elevation, giving him a clear view of the contents. He leaned over and rifled through the assortment of fruits, vegetables, and useless debris. At the bottom, a solitary rock rested, not much larger than himself.

He turned toward her. “You think you did well?”

Her lips parted for a moment, then pressed together.

“Answer me. Did you do good?”

She spoke softly. “No.”

“And?” he asked.

She swallowed. “P— punish Onia.”

“Which punishment?”

Green tinged water piled up at the corners of her purple eyes. “Whip.”

“Where?”

“Arm.” She glanced at arm supporting the hand on which he stood. It had already healed from the lashings he’d delivered yesterday. Scar tissue would make it less painful for her, and he’d be forced to exert himself.

“You ignored the whistle.” He grit his teeth so hard his jaw popped. “I almost died. Do you think it’s fair — to pick — your arm?”

She blinked rapidly, causing the pool at the corner of her left eye to overflow. “F — face.”

“That’s better. Turn your head and bring me closer.”

Although her hand shook, she obeyed, exposing the left side of her face within easy reach. He unhooked the gyro whip from his belt holster, and let it dangle on her wrist. With each passing second, the trembling of her palm grew more pronounced.

“One.” He cracked the whip against her cheekbone, inscribing a deep, diagonal slash.

“Two.” She blinked and the whip connected with her eyelid. Her eye remained shut, quivering.

“Three.” He raked the serrated tip against her jawline.

“Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten!” Crisscrossed patterns erupted across her cheek, one spanning all the way back to her ear. Emerald blood streamed from lacerations like cheese through a grater. Overall, she’d gotten off easy. The whip’s charge had depleted by the seventh strike, the last few inflicting mere welts instead of jagged cuts.

“Done.” he said through heaving breaths. Her hand steadied, and her bloodied eye crept open, though not beyond a squint.

“Put me down and make a fire.”

After depositing Peric and the satchel on the ground, she snapped a dead Aezock at its base and drew it from her fist like a sword from a sheath. Branches rained down, filling their makeshift fire pit. She pounded the naked trunk into the oversized kindling and twisted it back and forth with both hands.

After a full minute, she lifted the tree and tossed a pile of dry leaves into the pit’s smouldering core. She exhaled oxygen and the leaves burst into flames, sizzling as sweat and blood dripped from her chin.

In the meantime, Peric had managed to hack a section of untainted meat from the Tarlo’s hind leg and impale it on a metal spit. He motioned for Onia. She lowered her head and opened her mouth. He inserted the spit and let her tongue purify the meat, stripping the fetid skin and fur. When she finished, she leaned away and puked amber bile. Steam arose from the area as leaves and grass dissolved.

“Disgusting.” He balanced the spit on two Y-shaped branches that sandwiched the pit. “Are you trying to ruin my appetite?”

She shook her head and wiped her chin. Then, she nibbled the top of the tree she’d used to start the fire.

“Not that one.” He snapped the useless whip against her calloused foot, eliciting barely a twitch. “Go wash your face. Just your face. If you come back soaking wet like last time, you’ll go without food.”

She nodded, dropped the log, and rose to her feet. At her full height, she blocked the setting sun, casting a deep shadow over the campsite. The ground trembled as she walked toward the lake, so much so, he wondered why he hadn’t felt her approach earlier. Then again, a ravenous Tarlo tended to distract, especially when bent on devouring its prey.

By the time she’d returned, he’d eaten his fill of the roasted morsel and stored the remainder in a salt lined pouch. It had been days since he’d tasted meat and, unexpectedly, the feast had improved his mood — so much so his eyes had drifted shut as he reclined on his knapsack.

A low rumble interrupted his repose. His eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the dim light of dusk. Onia stood motionless, a tanned statue of living flesh, glistening streams of water cascading down her scantily clad body. Her hair had grown too long over the months, past her shoulder blades, and it absorbed water like a sponge.

“Worthless pig,” he muttered. He got to his feet and walked to the edge of the clearing. The Oubleaf tree there towered over him, rising nearly as tall as Onia herself. He tapped on it’s trunk, and she wasted no time. Leaves showered his head as she ripped limbs from high above.

He walked between her feet and paused, attention drawn to her left ankle. A colony of Lobaufeed leeches had taken residence there. They pulsed dark green, the color of her blood.

He picked them off, one by one, stomping on them until they burst. Her raw skin, the spots where the leeches had been, cast off a mild luminescence, a sign of her body digesting the plant matter she so ravenously consumed. Who knew how many of these palm-sized parasites clung to her body. Yet another chore for him to endure.

He’d save it for the morning.

 

 

Chapter End Notes:

Taking a short break from writing YouTube. Planning for this to be fyve chapters. :) Mostly written, just need to edit and post.

You must login (register) to review.