Eight
Woke up with a splitting headache. Feeling a little better now, but still rotten. Managed to get up to gather water, but almost stepped in something at the edge of my camp. The fresh carcass of a small, brown animal. Headless, with shiny coarse hair, laying outstretched as if purposefully arranged and ringed by a selection of strange fruits.
As my health improved, I had come to regard the vision as a product of my illness. But now, with this supernatural gift at my feet, the doubts were starting to creep back in.
I took the collection of objects back to camp, and regarded each of them carefully.
There was a large, hard fruit whose weight seemed to shift as I handled it, a yellow tube-shaped fruit covered in firm hexagonal scales, a few round fruits covered in flexible hairlike spines, and a bundle of small dark berries still attached to a stem. All smelled tempting, though I guess I am more wary of food now.
And the strange little body, of course. Its head was removed clumsily, as if torn by teeth and claws, but extricated just cleanly enough to imply some degree of finesse. It was sliced open with a jagged stroke, but not gutted. The plum tones of its entrails glistened amongst the pink of its flesh.
In life it could’ve been something resembling a mammal. Its four limbs ended in little cloven hooves, and it had a short tail tipped by a tuft of white hair. Its proportions seemed off somehow; legs too thin and short, body too square. Slightly comical. Almost impossible to tell whether or not it was an adult of its species.
I used a slither of glass to tear through the soft flesh of one of the creature’s rear limbs. The meat was fine-grained and lean. Not unpleasant in texture. The pearly bone broke cleanly against the jagged teeth of my hand-axe.
I ate the severed limb for breakfast, along with a handful of the pleasantly bitter dark berries. Translucent strings of gristle clung between my teeth for the better part of the day.
If this was indeed a gift, then I am grateful for it. Grateful, and nourished.