Chapter Four
Puck carefully reached a hand into a bush, picking the tiny red berries from its lower branches. After plucking every edible morsel, he stood up slightly and moved onward to fresher patches. He could easily carry a few dozen of the berries by himself, simply by cupping his hand. It would take hundreds, if not thousands of them to actually cure hunger, even partially. The one thing that the berries did provide was vitamins. Tasteless, but essential, vitamins. Puck idly flicked one into his mouth and clamped his teeth down on it, letting the juices flow over his tongue. For the past two weeks he had eaten little else. His mind yearned for a change in diet, but he grimaced and swallowed the papery fruit all the same.
Every capable adult that wasn't keeping watch over the nesting hill had been spending almost all of their waking hours in the dense forest searching for fruit, every day travelling a bit further. The loss of twenty hungry mouths hadn't helped in the slightest; a dark sense of foreboding had come over the majority of the pack, and the feeling of being overstretched and overworked was growing. The foraging Emerack always moved in a somewhat circular pattern, extending out around the hill while trying not to grow too far apart, but made sure never to come within six miles of the hill. Even at that distance, Arone and his draftee foragers only explored with a heavy fighter presence.
The role system, Puck reflected, was never an incredibly accurate measure of an individual's skill. The common majority of Emerack all had good eyes, strong nerves and a hefty amount of stamina, but were always willing to adapt. Kirett, for example, could run for hours without stopping for a drink, and yet still fight maniacally when he was needed. Excluding perhaps Arone, it was hard to think of anyone in the pack who was absolutely specialised to his or her role.
Puck hesitated for a moment's rest, leaning against a brown tree. He swallowed a few more of the berries in his hand and pondered the pack's situation for a little while.
In past Springs, the Emerack had always been hard-pressed to beat other herbivores to the fleetingly ripe fruit. Save for the Freyola fruit, there was no common method of sustenance except for choking down huge amounts of Springtime berries. Come Summer, creatures from all around would hurry to the fruit trees to take a shot at some of the most appetising fruit they would ever taste. For that reason, carnivores would be excited too.
Snuggling into the cool breeze, Puck looked down at the crisp grass. In Autumn, he could put into practice a trick he had learned. He would stand in a wide open space with lots of leaves around, and point his tail towards the ground. He would start to twirl it around, slowly at first, but steadily becoming faster until the leaves would start to blow around him like a miniature cyclone. He had even briefly considered trying it as a battle technique, but gave up immediately. Leaves weren't exactly a very effective shield. Even if Puck tried it, he would have needed several other people acting in concert with him to make it even slightly impressive. It was still entertaining to attempt in his spare time though, regardless of the inevitable dizziness that followed.
A dewdrop fell from a branch high above and landed on Puck's head, breaking him from his daydream. He shook himself slightly, and headed off in the direction of yet another berry bush. The day would soon be over, and tomorrow he would be doing the same thing, eating the same food, exposed to the same dangers, but he would carry on regardless. Sour, flaky fruit was preferable to death any day.
While there is a dawn, Puck thought bitterly.
. . .
It smiled. Life was good.
It had begun to enjoy this reality immensely since Its first awakening. It was now controlling the movement of its form and figure with an innate masterfulness, and the irksome growling in the stomach could be suppressed through prolonged feeding. After many hours of exploration and experience, It's mind and body would eventually become fatigued, and It would have to rest, but that was not a problem.
As it turned out, many animals lived in sizeable dens, hidden in between shrubs and made to accommodate a large family. The residents were not always present, and It was always willing to remove them if they were. On occasion, It found strange rock-like objects amid clusters of branches and feathers and fur. When broken, they released a mysterious, runny substance that stained the dirt. It had experimented with ingesting the goo and had found it filling, yet bland.
As far as It was concerned, meat was infinitely superior.
It's taste for meat had started with the fist-sized rodent by the tree whose carcass had nearly made It retch. It had stayed clear of live prey for a long while afterwards, but after a few days It couldn't resist trying again.
And all of a sudden, meat was perfect.
It no longer felt uneasy about breaking creatures' bodies and consuming their flesh. The sickening feeling that had come after the rodent had vanished, leaving in its place only satisfying fullness. This had prompted It to hunt again, this time for much larger catches, and never failed to keep the grumbling innards at bay. It had composed Itself a steady diet of meat and fruit, and was enjoying meals more than any other time in Its life. The flesh was filling and the fruit was refreshing, but only the right kind.
The right kind.
It bristled at the memory. Only a day ago, It had been exploring the seemingly never-ending woods and had spotted a herd of grazing beasts almost a hundred strong. Their hides were thick and hairy, their legs muscled and long, and they had enormous horns protruding from their heads. Intrigued, It had wandered closer, only to find that the herd had gathered around a vine, covered with the most delicious, mouth-watering Springtime fruit that It had ever laid eyes upon since Its awakening.
And they were eating them.
They were eating It's fruit.
Enraged, It had leaped from the bushes and charged at the largest of them all, tackling it to the ground. A long strand of fruit vine had snapped from the tree and dangled uselessly from the beast's mouth. The prey had kicked and squirmed, but It held onto the thief's neck until the characteristic SNAP sounded. Yet even in its death throes, the powerful beast scored a gash along It's torso, which had bled profusely. Upon witnessing their presumed leader's death, the herd had taken flight. It, still full of fury, pursued them through the trees for hours, until It finally collapsed. It never found the bountiful vine again.
No-one would take It's food. No-one.
. . .
Eyes: Are the pictures transmitting themselves?
Ears: Yes. How do you plan on dealing with that wound? It could cause major problems if it becomes infected.
Eyes: The prototype will take care of it.
Ears: I trust that is all that is being told of the prototype.
Eyes: Affirmative. No changes to Specimen #1's anatomy or metabolism have been made, save for the adjustments to the digestive system as was ordered.
Ears: Very good. Continue monitoring Specimen #1's activities. Project Magog shall commence when necessary.
Eyes: Understood. The repercussions on the local food chain will be intriguing to see after the Specimen drove off the native wildebeest.
Ears: Indeed.