Existence

Part One

The animal struggles under my grip, its breath slowly leaking from its frantic lungs. I try to tighten my hold over the creature's nostrils and mouth, making certain not to get my fingers too close his jaw. They might not have teeth, but with a single crunch they can break the wrist and leave it inoperable for full seasons. I know this from experience.

Some of the men can snap the animal's neck with one solid, menacing motion, but I was never able to match their strength in that regard. Besides, it's too dangerous to watch them and practice their technique. Instead I am forced to use the agonizing process of asphyxiation, watching as the critter thrashes in my arms, mortal terror in its eyes for anywhere from a few moments to a great portion of the day depending on how tightly I hold my hands.

Today I am impatient. I clamp hands too tightly against its nostrils and it jerks a hoof into my stomach. I reel over from the pain and the animal flees from my grasp. I growl and rush after it in pursuit, the second time I've had to chase this thing today. Thankfully, I've already squeezed most of the life out of it, and they aren't too terribly agile to begin with. Soon enough the thing is exhausted by the chase and surrenders itself to impending death. I go back to my work and this time finish without the sloppiness of before.

∞

I drag the beast back to the others, making certain not to make eye contact with the scattered women foraging for nuts and berries in the forest. It's much easier work, but I find that the produce is unable to sustain me. I tried the simpler way and nearly starved to death for it. I won't make the same mistake again. And besides, the women will be outside rummaging through the woods until long after the sun has moved down the sky. Today has been fortunate, and I'll be able to spend the rest of it in leisure.

I survey the area and see a few other men picking clean various carcasses and even the occasional woman who stumbled upon a particularly lucrative bush. One even decided to uproot their plant, although I don't linger on that thought for too long. That could only bring trouble.

I tilt my head down and focus purely on the corpse lying in front of me, now swarming with a variety of insects. If I'm even luckier, there might be some larvae left over on the meat as a snack, but I try not to get my hopes up. Instead, I begin punching the beast in the chest with every ounce of force I can raise from my left arm. It's about all my hand is good for after being crushed when I first began hunting, and I don't really mind the subtle cracks that sometimes can be heard when I go about this rhythmic beating. I just hope it's the ribs I'm hearing.

It takes some time, and afterwards I'm quite exhausted, but eventually there's an audible snap, and if I follow the outline of the bones, I can find the break and tear myself off some flesh. I take as much hide as can fit in my hand and pull, the veins in my head ready to burst from the effort. I see the skin stretch further and further in my hand until the flesh cannot withstand the tension and a blood drenched strip of meat is torn off the ribcage in a shower of shattered vessels and cartilage.

With a squeal of delight, I hold the dripping flesh to my face and suck in the delicious juices, ignorant of the liquid pouring down my face and soaking my body in warm, sticky euphoria. When the meat is all but completely dry, I start to rend the flesh with my teeth, avoiding the parts that are too close to the hide, for I know that I will unable to chew the beast's rough exterior. A choking fit that nearly left me suffocating was more than enough to teach me that particular lesson.

In my earlier days I would normally skip the slurping part and simply start the meal by planting my teeth into the soft, succulent flesh. I've found my teeth no longer conducive to that plan of attack, however, and they are often left aching and sore when used for more than passive scaling of the creature's hide. If the meat isn't tenderized first, my entire jaw will start to feel engulfed in flame and the pain will preclude me from eating anything for several days, although my poor hunting abilities often have the same effect. The loss of two teeth, decayed and blackened completely to their core has made me much more cautious with my mouth in general. It is one thing to starve for lack of food. In fact, it's totally understandable. It is another thing entirely to die for lack of eating, although I try to not think too much about ways to prevent it because, of course, that would just be stirring up more trouble.