Junkyard

23/10/2020

Continues from yesterday...

Siren from the Skies

-four-

Finch awoke to the buzzing heat of early daybreak. He sloshed some water into his throat and rebound his hair before climbing down his resting place. He had slept between the boughs of three particularly steep trees a few paces from the track he was following. After taking several blinks to check his surroundings, he wound back to where he had left the other two of the silba (the third one he had served for Gunni – a bony and prickly delicacy).

At first, he thought they may have recovered somehow and flew away. There was no mistake as to his location due to the markings he had carved. But strangely, there was also the same turned earth he had been following from the pig. The boy frowned, poked the tip of his spear in and lifted. No blood.

He cocked his head and realised the buzzing had amplified, as though a large swarm of angry bees and flies were hovering over him. He followed the din till the earth beneath his feet became soft and sticky.

It was mud – there must be water nearby – but with something else mixed in. He stepped carefully, using his spear as a guide. This was no sinking earth, the ones that sucked and swallowed. It felt like it was a part of the earth, yet foreign too that a hunter could quickly detect.

He pulled aside the thick curtain of leaves and saw and smelled his answer.

Of course. Something else...

Something that returns to the soil. Something dark and rich.

Blood.

.oOo.

There was a circular field of light grass. New and fresh by the height of them. A stream two legs wide split the field into two equal banks.

Finch wanted to wash his face and taste the coolness of the water to make him forget. Like the pinch in his arm he gave himself as he made way towards the stream. But when he caught sight of it, he fell to his knees and heaved onto the blood coloured grass.

The carnage was all around. There was no way to avoid them as he sank on his hands and emptied his stomach. He watched the sickly brown blob split and merge with the thick red, getting covered and being no more.

He laid on his back and looked at the sky through blurring eyes, expecting the sky to be red too. Everything was so red, he wished to believe that the world was red afterall. His father, a warrior, must have this kind of vision. Lived through countless battles and taught his son that blood was a lifeforce. That what a naïve boy he was. That the spill of blood was normal, and he was only now seeing straight at reality.

But the sky was blue. And the trees were green. As always.

This must be a Ra'kili'm... He wondered emptily. It could only be a vision caused by the heat and isolation of being in the kilijec. Finch felt weak and he wanted to believe this was true. He faced a glassy-eyed white panther and touched its chest. His finger traced the path of its cavernous underside to its spilled organs.

Squelch.

The wet sensation jolted him out of his reverie. The boy managed to gasp before pulling away in horror and disgust.

He clambered up shakily, eyes seeking a way to avoid the bodies of the dead animals all around the field, yet they stubbornly alighted on each one. All uncommon, colourful creatures. Most were of big proportions and yet, they have been ravaged by deep tears and scratches. The worst ones like the panther wore gaping holes on their bodies or were missing entire limbs.

Since most of them were predators, Finch was uncertain if they had fought each other or there had been a new, unfriendly creature on the prowl. What could possibly lead them all out in the open at the same time?

While he was but a half-trained hunter, he was sure that whatever was killing the animals – the creatures that share this land with the hunters – would come to harm the village too. Perhaps it never will directly but there might be effects in the chain of hunting and feeding. Finch hoped that he could have a glimpse of this unknown before going back to the elders. To have them trust him, he needed a great evidence.

And he had a plan.

So far, the dead animals seemed to have been dragged away. Finch still had no idea where, but it was connected somehow to these incidents. If predicted correctly, it would come to claim these animals as well.

The boy retreated back into the kilijec and went to look for a particular fruit he had in mind.

T.B.C