Project GODS

Project GODS: Erasing

Once again, comments are seriously begged for!! Please tell me what you think! -Zanintia

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               Swinging out of the tree and landing lightly on the ground, I gathered my bag, taking out the contents. 

                A first aid kit, some water from the creek I had found, papayas, a sharp hunting knife, matches, flares, a waterproof flashlight, cloth of some sort. 

                I hunted that morning, tracking down a deer easily and making the kill quickly. It was a buck, its ornate horns reaching to the sky, making it seem much larger. I shot it through the head quickly, notching and shooting in a breath, the deer dead before it even knew I was there. I walked over and put my hands on its head, thanking it for the nourishment it would provide me, and thanking Jesus for the same thing.

                I skinned it quickly, folding the pelt up in the bag I had, and cutting the meat into quarters. Building a fire was also quick and dangerous as I couldn’t afford to be seen. I roasted all but one large piece, folding the large one up in a small cloth I had found in the survival kit.

                Extinguishing the fire and obliterating all of the evidence of my existence, I walked on, following the tracks a large cat had left. Its pawprints were much too large to be a regular jaguar, so I guessed that it was a mutant that had escaped from the institute when it exploded.

                The special part of hunting is the chase. While I was stalking that cat, in a way I felt that I was the cat.

                I could feel its paw steps, the beat of its heart, and the heat of its breath. Soon, I forgot everything that had been occupying my brain disappeared like drying rain, and I was totally immersed in the chase.

                I made record time, tracking the animal in under two hours. I saw it under a tree, unaware of my presence and grooming its already impressive fur. It growled slowly under its breath when it tasted my scent, crouching into an aggressive position. I responded in like, creeping forward centimeters at a time, nearly still. We breathed in sync, and I kept lower than it, signaling submission.

                The cat watched me warily, not moving an inch but keeping its muscles coiled, ready for spring. I moved my one arm, making sure the cat was focused on it while bringing up the knife in my other hand at the same time.

                In a quick motion I cut off a huge tuft of hair and sprang back quicker than a lightning strike, the cat’s claws missing my skin by a breath. I climbed up a tree quickly, knowing it was behind me, leading it closer and closer to the cliff.

                I threw the hair down in huge tufts, running in a circle and making sure the cat tore up the bushes.

                It seemed like forever that we struggled, dodging the cat’s swipes by nothing more than a breeze. My goal wasn’t to hurt the creature, but it was making it difficult.

                Finally, I judged the scene satisfactory. I then cut myself, a quick, superficial wound that would bleed a lot but be easily bandaged and fixed. When the bushes were all stained red, I scampered up a tree behind the cat’s back and bound the wound with bandages from my pack. For further effect, I tore off a piece of my shirt, ripping it with my knife and wiping some blood onto it. I dropped it in an obvious spot.

                The cat spun around, its nostrils flaring as my scent hit its nose. When it struck out, I jumped back and flipped around, diving off the cliff in one quick motion. As I fell, I could hear the cat’s yowl of frustration, ripping through the air like a bullet.