Alpaca x Soul
You are an alpaca roaming the countryside.
America, year 1100. Only a handful of Europeans have ever set foot on these shores. Unspoilt beauty, nature surrounds.
And yet, there, on the horizon, you spot something you've never seen before.
It appears to be a human. White hair, red eyes.
Human approaches, slowly but with confidence. You stand your ground.
The human's confidence falters, but only a bit: its strides take pauses, cautious, almost afraid of you. But why? You are but a grey-haired alpaca, serene and fluffy in the wild grasses. What could cause such apprehension?
The human smiles. It reaches out its hand and pets you. You nod your head slightly in response, and the petting continues. Human appears to be taking gentle pleasure in the action. You feel the strange sensation along your back: wool? It had never occurred to you before that the wool must feel different to others. You take happiness in the knowledge that human enjoys the feeling.
Human kneels down in the grass. "My name's Soul. Would you like to come back with me?"
Words don't mean anything to your alpaca brain, alpaca understanding of this world, but you somehow understand.
Unspoken exchange between the two: Human stands up, white hair rustling in the wind, and begins walking. You follow.
The human takes you to a small homestead: a house, some buildings, and a field. He seems proud of this assemblage, of this creation in the clearing. You are unimpressed but mildly interested.
Human takes you to a barn structure. There, on the ground outside, is a large metal tool.
"This is a plow. Do you know how to use it?"
You stare, not understanding what these sounds from his mouth are attempting to convey.
"Here, I'll show you."
He lifts the front of the metal tool and links it you your neck. You begin to understand.
"Go walk all around the field, It'll help grow plants. You'll see."
You walk out into the field, trusting human's words entirely, even with a brain devoid of grammar or syntax. You pull with all your might, digging the plow's teeth into the dirt. Anything for new owner.
Hours later, the entire field is plowed. Human comes out from the house and sees.
"Good job. You can be my alpaca now, you passed the test."
With that, human smiles and goes into the barn. He comes out with a trough of water and a bucket of oats.
"Enjoy. You deserve it."
Even without your understanding, you know that he is grateful. And you are grateful too.
The weeks pass. Human goes out into the woods, returns with dead animals, cooks them and feasts on their carcasses. You get bits and pieces as reward for your efforts helping out on the stead.
Owner is grateful. Begins to prize you highly.
Simultaneously, you begin to appreciate owner feeding you scraps of meat. Such a symbiotic relationship, you help with manual labor and human helps hunting. Mutual appreciation.
Human begins getting more demanding, says you must plow up new soil for new fields, forces you to begin hunting too. It's too much; an alpaca can only do so much around a homestead, you plea. Human knows you dislike the work, but human could easily slaughter you if you don't comply. He gives you angered, threatening glares if you dare complain. So you do the extra work and you don't bitch.
Owner knows you are unhappy, dissatisfied with his ownership and management. He kicks you.
You bite his calf muscle clear off his leg.
He howls in pain, but you know he deserves it. You return to being free out on the countryside.
Did human starve? Did human die?
You don't know. And you don't care.
Europeans won't be here for another few centuries. You are satisfied by this. Majestic, you are an alpaca. Freed from the reigns of the red-eyed beast.
Glory.