The Adventures of Olund and Sidon

Chapter 9, Despair

The rest of the day passed without a word spoken. The group had a newfound unity against their captors and a stubbornness to survive their harsh environment. Olund took to the grizzly task of butchering the corpse into ration-sizes. The others of the group stayed as far away as they could and tried their best not to see, hear or smell. No new food was given for the beavers today. Yol, Olund and Sidon ate quite a meal. Yol could not keep much of it down. Sidon, who for days had a growl in his belly no longer felt hungry. Olund felt repulsed but knew if they were to escape, he would need to be the strongest. To do that, he first had to eat. None of them had ever eaten another predator before and none of them enjoyed the experience.

Grum was lost in thought when he heard his daughter crying. He looked up from his feet to see her sitting off on her own, staring at the head of the fox. He got up and came alongside her. The head seemed to stare back at the two beavers.

"Hey, baby, you don't have to look at that," Grum said to her as he tried to turn her away, "c'mere."

"Daddy, I'm scarred."

"I know you're scared sweetie, I'm scared too."

"Am I gonna die Daddy?"

"You're not going to die Felicia, I promise you."

"But-but what about when they run out of meat, then they'll have to eat us! What're we gonna do, Daddy?" Felicia was getting hysterical. "Daddy, we're gonna die! Daddy!"

Grum pulled his daughter close to his chest and gently rubbed the back of her head. She cried until she could not shed another tear. She slumped onto the floor and stared silently at the wall. Grum sat down next to her and stared off into space. He remembered his wife. What would she come back to? To ruins and corpses? No, he thought, there would be no corpses. All the beavers must have been eaten. Gone without a trace. All their possessions surely looted and pillaged. Taken to fuel a war for control over more land. More land to hunt people like Grum. There was no pleasant end to the war for him. No matter the victor the outcome was the same. Everyone he loved would be served as meat for some voracious predator. The thought crushed every ounce of his energy, and he soon fell into a restless, fatigued sleep.

The other three had overheard the rather loud familial exchange. Sidon, though not as innocent as he used to be, still felt a measure insulted. After his time spent with them, how could they ever think he would betray them? He would never, could never, hurt them. And his brother never would either. How could they think something like that? Were they that suspicious, that distrustful of his kind?

"Olund?" Started Sidon.

"Yes Sidon?"

Sidon could not think of the words to say. His whole world was blood. He could not question the order of things because he knew, deep down, that it was better to be a hunter than the hunted. He hated the order of things but would never exchange his position for that of Grum. He was no fool. Sidon was a killer, albeit a begrudging one, and he had quite a talent for violence. That would be his dream: to live somewhere where he would never have to kill again. Never half to eat another person to survive. He had grown fond of his ex-captors. They could come with him and his brother. To a place far away, where they could just eat...fish! or maybe pastries (whatever they were). Maybe it would be better to dream up some wizard who could change every predator into prey. Then everyone could just eat whatever plants were on hand. In the mind of Sidon, both seemed equally plausible.

"I don't know how to say it, but I hate it." Said Sidon.

"What?"

"I-I just...I feel so hateful. I hate everything. I hate this guard, but I hate that we had to kill him. I hate that the beavers don't trust us, but I hate that we can't be trusted because our kind can't ever be trusted by their kind. I hate the world, and everything in it. Maybe it would have been better if we had died by that dragon, or starved to death before we learned how to kill."