Living Chow

I continue for an unknown amount of time. Just putting one foot in front of the other to eventually leave this massive forest while constantly saying the phrase I heard from my Ma. Over and over again. For some reason unknown to me, nothing approaches or attacks me, even in this state. Eventually, though, as I move through this forest that is twisting, turning, and shifting before my delirious mind, I hear something other than the constant whispers in my mind.

Shouts come from in front of me, of panic and distress. Too far to make out precisely what, but they sound young. Like me. I force my body to move faster, provoking another pang of debilitating hunger. I need to reach these voices. Maybe they will have food.

Soon, my feet carry me out of the forest and onto a dirt road that rests beside the maze of trees I have been stuck in. And on the said road is a single wagon with a horse pulling it with five other people standing with their backs to the carriage. They do so because of the four oversized wolves that are circling them.

My mind instantly sobers up at the thought of food. Even if I have to fight for it. My heart pumps with energy once more, taking probably the last of my body's reserves to give me the adrenaline I need to ignore the pain of, well, everything and the weakness that clouds my mind.

Neither of the two groups has noticed me yet. A single person is trying to stand up to the wolves, though. It's a young man, probably similar in age to me, holding a single-barreled shotgun aimed at the wolves. The man constantly yells at the wolves to get and go before he fires.

None of the other people have weapons as I look closer at them through my adrenaline-fueled soundness of mind. There are four others besides the young man. Two children at most ten years old, a lass probably close to my age as well, and another young man wearing glasses who holds a book close to his chest. None of them appear to have any ability to fight.

I am unsure how to fight these wolves, but I am too hungry to think much more. I was given a moment of clarity from the discovery, yet the hunger still calls. I draw both of my new daggers, thirsty for blood and hungry for food. I need to get up close and personal with these wolves, preferably behind them. Otherwise, I won't be able to use my daggers and will unlikely be fast enough to dodge in my current state.

Out of habit, I reach into my mind and touch my Sigil for Ether. It's gotten a bit better, so the pain now only appears when the Ether leaves my head and enters my neck. Unfortunately, I realize my error of habit before it gets any further past my jaw, and I reroute the Ether, creating a small loop inside my head.

The fog of my mind clears slightly more from this unintended help. So, with this fragmented clarity, I wait for a chance to strike. I wait as the wolves circle and get closer. As the two kids cry and scream a little bit more. The young man frantically aims his shotgun and fires, hitting one of the wolves. The wolf appears severely wounded as it yipes in pain and falls limply. Then, the wolves who were not shot pounce.

And so do I. I scream in rage with all the pent-up fury and pain of my current existence. And I run like the barbarians of my ancestors, and somehow, even with my present state, I run. I run and jump onto the back of the wolf in the front of the pack, about to pounce on the young man.

I stab, stab, stab, and stab some more furiously into its back. And as the daggers force the wolf to bleed, I drink. The blood only makes me hungrier. The wolf yipes and turns to me before trying to bite me, sinking its teeth shallowly into my shoulder. The newfound craving makes me bite back instead of using my weapons. The yearning for sustenance does give my jaw power, though.

My teeth sink deeply into the eye socket of the wolf as I rip out its eye and eat it. Once again, my hunger only deepens. I ignore the other wolves that now focus on me and not the people of the wagon carriage.

This large wolf I am on top of struggles against my onslaught as I bite, stab, rip, and tear away at it, desperately trying to restore some lost part of myself. Quickly, far too quickly for me, as I yearn for the flesh, the wolf stops moving after it has lost too much blood.

But the fight is still not over as I am tackled to the side by another wolf that tries to bite my jugular. The only reason it does not succeed is that at the last second, I turn to it and stab my dagger into its right eye. Together, we fall to the ground. The last wolf, besides this one, draws closer to my outstretched leg.

I stab and bite at this wolf clawing frenziedly at me as I recognize a familiar look in its eye of hunger. These wolves are the same as me. Driven only by the screams of the damned that come from our bodies.

This wolf also dies quickly as I realize how powerful these daggers are. The blood from the neck and head of the wolf is just falling upon me like a waterfall as I struggle to drink it up. But something breaks me from my indulgence. A sharp pain in my thin and weak left leg.

I look down and over the wolf on top of me, breathing its last breath. The last wolf is boldly biting my angle even after killing the rest of its pack. I feel a little kinship with it that is rapidly dispelled by more passion for nutrients. Then, flamed by the burning cauldron of hunger within me, I push the wolf on top of me to the side as I bolt forwards at the wolf with a speed I've only ever felt while under Physical Strengthening.

When I reach the wolf gnawing on my bony limb, I sink both daggers into its neck. Then, I rip open the wound I made further and bite into it. Ripping away a chuck of still living flesh. Only when I chew the meat do I pause to consider what I am doing?

I pray that this is not the true me; it is the Bloody Palm that makes me this hungry. That I wouldn't stoop this low otherwise.

But this consideration is only to rationalize what I'm doing. Not to prevent it. I continue to jab into and rip flesh out the last wolf until it is unmoving. I sit there breathing heavily until voices reach my voice. Real ones. Not the ephemeral ones of delirium.

I shakily stand from the encounter, still full of adrenaline and the unwilling last vigor of my body, and look at the other people present. The young man has reloaded his single-barrel shotgun and aims the barrel at me, much more shakily than when he aimed it at the wolves. The other four are cowering behind him, trying to hide from my gaze.

Why are they acting like that? I just saved them. I turn to see if another wolf behind me may be causing their caution, but no, there is nothing there. Only the dying wolf that got hit by his shotgun lies behind me.

I step closer and see the man wrap his finger tightly around the trigger. I pause and put my hands up, but they quickly go back down. They go down because my adrenaline is fading now that I'm not actively in combat. I feel very nauseous, like I overate beyond my stomach's size. But that doesn't make sense; I haven't eaten in days, and it feels like I haven't in a month.

Quickly, that nausea gets even worse as my stomach feels bloated. I fall to the ground on my knees and begin coughing profusely. Then the coughing evolves to retching as I struggle to remove whatever in me that is causing this.

While I sit on the ground, gagging and trying to expel the contents of my stomach, I hear footsteps approaching. I look up, hoping to see the people trying to help me.

Instead, what I see is the butt of a shotgun stock rapidly approaching my face. Then a sharp flash of pain as the world goes dark.

*********************

Leonard Clark

I breathe heavily in panic as I watch the thing before me collapse and fall unconscious. The smack from the butt of the shotgun, thankfully, is enough to knock it out. I don't know why I didn't shoot it immediately after it killed those wolves, but after it put its arms up, I realized it could understand us.

The thing is lanky, gaunt, and has see-through bits of its skin. It looks like I'm looking at an undead horror or something. The skin's surface on its arms looks like it's been through a meat grinder. And the way it moved sent chills racing down my spine. The way it killed those wolves was the worst, though. It had weapons and still chose to bite and drink from them as it fought.

Footsteps to my side bring me out of the entrenched fear as I hear Elizabeth gasp and run forwards. I go to grab her, but I react too slowly. She kneels down to the creature and yells at me.

"Leonard! This is a person! Come help you, idiot!"

What? No way. It's some kind of monster. I turn back to the rest of the group and say to Earl, the future but already accepted student of the Cornway Academy of Sciences in Brightford, Blackreach.

"Keep the little ones away; I'll knock some sense into 'Liz."

I walk closer and reach down to pull Elizabeth away from this… this thing, as I see it, is wearing a cowboy hat with a very wide brim and a backpack on its back.

Devil's shit of a turd. It is a person! But how? How can someone be this hellishly malnourished and still be alive, let alone able to kill three wolves as he did? I think I can see his intestines through his skin.

Always the quick thinker, Elizabeth opens the man's pack and searches through. I try to get her to stop, my stomach vibrating at the sight of the thing.

"Uh, 'Liz. Maybe you shouldn't do that. Who knows what's in there."

She responds without even turning back.

"We don't have bandages, Leonard. Look at him! The wolves got him bad."

I was the closest to him earlier, so I know, in fact, most of what is wrong with him is not from the wolves. Only a single gash on his torso, one on his shoulder, and the deep bite on his ankle are new. I hold my tongue, though, not wanting to distract her.

Elizabeth pulls out a bundle of blood-red bandages that kind of glow dimly. I stare at them, amazed. What the hell are those? They don't look like any regular bandages I've ever seen.

Elizabeth, the toughest gal I ever knew, wastes no time gawking like me. She quickly wraps up the person's ankle and then moves on to other wounds. Only when she reaches his upper chest, where his heart is visible, does she pause. I can only watch her work, my hands shaky and sweaty.

The man's heart is clearly visible. Like a pane of flesh-colored glass, a piece of muscle covers the heart. Allowing total visibility to the inner workings of the body. We both watch for a moment in awe at the slow beat of the cardiac muscle within his body. Elizabeth first breaks out of this hypnotic state, looking up at me, who has done nothing to help.

"Leonard!"

I turn to her, confused.

"What?"

She yells me into action, and her voice is so easy to listen to, especially when angry or panicked.

"Go get food! Look at him. He's so skinny. I bet he's been starving to death for over a month, maybe two."

"Okay. Okay. I'll be right back."

I return to the carriage and grab some bread, water, and a few pieces of jerky before stepping back. On my way back, though, Earl grabs my arm.

"What's going on? Why are you grabbing some of our last supplies to feed a freak?"

Pausing, I think for a moment. I had only just instinctively followed Elizabeth's orders. She's much smarter than me. But Earl's more intelligent than us both. But we gotta help, right? I'd want someone to feed me if I was like that. Plus, I'm the one who knocked him out…

"It's just the right thing, man. By good rights, everyone should have an opportunity to live. And he just saved us."

Earl thinks for a moment, thumb on his short chin before he nods.

"Okay. Okay. We'll have to find a stream to compensate for the water. And one of us will have to butcher the wolves for food. Ain't gonna have us die to save someone else. Come get me when you're done; Imma be looking at the map for a creek or stream."

I nod back at Earl in understanding. I worked as a butcher's apprentice in our old town, Luadner, for a few months before I got kicked out. So, I should be able to get the meat from the Wolves. And the reason for being fired? Sleeping on the job. Pa beat me over it every day for at least a month before he got tired of doin' so.

I miss him. And Ma. Us five, me, Elizabeth, Earl, Lonnie, and Esther, have been on the road for over a week since it happened. Since our hometown was overrun with monsters. Tall insect-like things that stand on four legs with two scythes. Our small shanty town only had a hundred or so. And our only guard was an old retired Hunter. He died within ten minutes of the attack. Only killing four of the insects before he was beheaded.

We all ran out of the town and panicked while our neighbors were murdered like unwanted cattle. I never even saw Ma or Pa that day. I was out following Earl to collect herbs. He's trying to become an alchemist. And I'd say he's pretty damned good already. Being able to make elixir and balms to treat burns or cuts. I don't think he's good enough to make something to help the starving man I'm walking back to, though.

We found Elizabeth and the other two while running away from an insectoid monster. Luckily, I had brought my hunting shotgun, so I could kill it after Elizabeth distracted it with a rock to the head. Then we all ran away until we found an abandoned wagon with a horse and used it to escape faster toward the northeast.

But all this came out of nowhere. My Pa used to talk about how dangerous this region used to be. The Tornridge Territory, how just less than thirty years ago, was covered in monsters and other terrible critters.

Until one day, they all disappeared. Replaced by a haze of blue and a new river made of blood. The Vainspring river. It's no longer made of blood, but its shores are still red nonetheless. Pa used to say that someone made a deal with the Devil to clear the region, and in the Red Judge's fairness, he did so. Well, I guess the agreement had a time limit.

I stop reminiscing as I return to the unconscious gaunt man and Elizabeth. She has his head resting on her lap as she looks through the pack, probably to find anything useful. I notice that his curved daggers are put onto the sides of the bag. Looks like she tied them on using their hoops and a piece of fabric.

I announce my return while handing the supplies out to her with open arms.

"I'm back. Brought some jerky, bread, and water."

Elizabeth looks up and smiles. The smile instantly puts butterflies in my stomach with how cute she is. Her long midnight black hair cascades over her shoulders, further intriguing me. She was the cutest girl in our old town, which isn't saying much, to be completely honest, as the bar is pretty low, but she is lovely to me. Then she takes the bread and water, thanking me.

"Thank you, Leonard. Maybe we can still save him. I've never seen someone this skinny all my life. A few vagabonds and refugees that used to go past Luadner would be thin and frail, but never this bad. Help me carry him to the wagon."

I wake up from my distraction as she speaks to me.

"Okay, I'll get his legs; you get his torso."

Elizabeth looks at me and then back at the person.

"Sounds good, just don't touch his ankle. Don't want it to get any worse."

I nod, and together, we lift him, both surprised by how little he weighs, probably around seventy pounds. I could carry him all by myself. Once we get him onto the wagon, the two little ones come and try to look at the new passenger. I shake them off and tell them to play with the horse for a few minutes.

Elizabeth then sits back down next to the person on the wagon and returns to caring mode. She looks up at me.

"Go and watch the little ones or have Earl do it. We should get moving soon, for the blood will probably attract more. I must feed him slowly and with soft food, or he'll start choking. People who are starving can't handle hard food immediately."

She finishes speaking as she tilts the guy's head and splashes water onto a rag. Then with the wet rag, she wipes his bloody dirt-covered face. We both gasp simultaneously for what is underneath the mask of dirt and blood.

It's a kid. He may be a little younger than me in my seventeen winters. Maybe he's Elizabeth or Earl's age. They're both sixteen. I hear Elizabeth whisper to herself.

"Oh my. What happened to you?"

And I think the same. I'd be long dead if I had even a fraction of his wounds or if I had twice as much meat on my bones. The guy looks about 5 foot 9 to 10 inches tall but, at most, seventy-five pounds. I think even little Esther might outweigh this guy.

A yell from the front of the carriage by the horse near Earl makes me take action once more.

"Leonard! Hurry up and butcher one of the wolves! I found a creek to go to! It's north!"

I shake my head and take the knife from the scrawny kid's pack. Elizabeth gives me a death stare. I put my hands up.

"Hey! It's for him. He needs to eat, right? How else will I butcher those wolves?"

She nods, then goes and pours some water and bread before putting the mushy mixture into his mouth. I turn and hop down from the wagon to butcher a wolf, sighing. I hated that job. Made me smell oh so disgusting after a shift. Just like what's about to happen now.

Well, at least Earl and his dumb glasses and freckled-covered face found a creek.