Tooth! What next? After comes the skin, the hair, the cartilage, the long tough strands of sinewy tendon. All the parts inedible are removed with the blade of a freshly sharpened knife. The hide can be tanned and beaten into leather, good for boot making. The fat will be used as sealant, to keep the walls warm in winter. The muscle is the part that is kept for eating, all twenty tonnes of it. The hunt was a fortnight-long process, that involved the better part of the villagers of Windigo. A Rindagong is no easy prey. Timid by nature, and quick to flee, great skill is needed to obtain its flesh.
And so it would be, a feast for the village of Windigo. Amid the celebratory chants, Morpon looked on quietly from aside. She was the village shrikmonker. So she could not let herself be seen, especially at such an hour.
"Woorl-Worph!" a voice called out, which Morpon recognized. She turned around.
"Where have you been, Rakatang?" she whispered. Rakatang swooped down from the fire-tinged air, which still smelled sharp of the Rindagong's blood.
"Woorl-Worph," Rakatang cried out again, shaking its wings. Morpon reached up and caressed the creature's velvety shin.
"Shhh, not so loud."
Then, turning away from Rakatang, Morpon sighed. "You will get to savor the taste of Ringadong someday, I assure you of it. But not yet. Now is not the time."