Guardians by Design - Land

“Here,” Brenloru said, stopping to inspect a small pile of feces on the ground. “Raccoon droppings… and footprints of your species leading this way.”

“Oh, yes, you’re correct. Thank you, Bren,” Festelda said, examining the area for more clues. Various trees displayed small scratches, etched in by the claws of her species. Patches of pine needle-covered soil were disturbed from the traffic of tiny feet. How could I not recognize it until now… she thought. I promised myself I would never come back here.

Her loyalty to her family pulled her deeper into the forest. “I’m leaving you three here. I need to do this next part myself,” she said, appearing worried.

“Wha- the… the sun just rose! We’re never going to make any progress on this wild goose chase if we keep stopping for various side projects!” Reblex exclaimed. His cheeks flared red.

“I’m sorry, Reb. I truly am. But I need to visit them. Please, take some more time to rest up. Then no more stops, I promise!” she called while sportily backpedaling. Maybe things have changed, she thought. The ache in her stomach disagreed. Hopping over a protruding root, she took off in a jog. Or maybe… they’re not even here anymore.

***

Festelda paused in front of a large boulder wearing a smile. She knew this place well. Approaching it, she was forced to tilt her head back to retain vision of the very top. It towered over her. White specs dotted the granite monolith. Chips and chunks had fallen from the eroding rock due to physical abuse and weather patterns, although it was the same rock. She could never forget this landmark. As her neck became stiff from the strain of fully tilting her head back, memories flooded her mind. Racing relatives around the base, keeping watch for predators from the top. She even recognized some of her own claw marks – permanently imbedded in the stone when she had attempted to scale it at a younger age. It was one of her favorite places to play as a child.

“Fez?” a flat voice called out behind her. She whipped around and grasped the handle of one of her daggers.

“Little Fezzy!?” the voice rose.

A male raccoon, only slightly taller than her, had snuck up to investigate the mysterious visitor. He possessed no weapons other than his own claws. Slightly overweight, his demeanor expressed no ‘stealthy’ qualities. His grey chin was matted, stained a darker tone from dried blood.

“Demrus,” she said, narrowing her eyes on the raccoon. Her lips pursed, and she released her grip on the hilt.

“You’re back. You’ve changed your mind?” the pudgy raccoon inquired.

“Heh. I was passing through. Just paying a visit,” she replied flatly.

“Look at you, little sister. All grown up! You look so professional; like a hired assassin!” he ran up to embrace her. His pudgy belly impeded him from fully wrapping his arms around his sister. Despite their relation, Demrus displayed the typical, darker shades of a raccoon.

Festelda patted one of her sibling’s shoulders, keeping her other arm at her side. “How’s mom and dad. The rest of the family?” she said after a brief pause, the rock behind her still on her mind.

***

Festelda and her brother entered the small encampment they had been raised in. Small lean-tos were crafted from mud and sticks, built against the base of various wide-trunked trees, but most shelters rested on large branches, looming above their heads. Raccoons from this year’s litters chased each other around the bases, letting out loud squeals and baring their teeth when caught. Elders watched while fiddling with nuts still trapped in shells. An elder female looked up with a gasp, dropping the nut she was trying to crack between her back teeth.

“Fes...telda! Oh, dear, welcome home honey!” Her mother rushed over to embrace her. Average height for an aging female of their species, she too carried a little extra weight around her middle. Her color, however, had held quite well. Generally, her age would have greyed the animal’s fur. Festelda did her best to not give any credit to her mother’s dietary choices for keeping her looking so young.

Trying to keep a straight face, a tear welled in Festelda’s left eye as she held her mother for a moment.

Mother forcefully pushed her to arm’s length. “Have you eaten, darlin’?” she asked with a smile on her face. “Come, come. The spring berries are excellent this year. They pair quite well with the birds returning for spring.”

Festelda replied to the meal plan with a stern gaze.

“Oh, well, right. Sorry sweetheart. Just the berries for you. Come, your father should be sitting down with some now,” she said, forcibly retaining a smile that exposed canines beneath curled lips. Festelda winced at the sight of the left tooth, which was only half the length of the other. It had probably been broken in an attempt to bite through bones.

She followed her mother through the camp, subtly scanning the living area with scrutiny that cramped her stomach. Bodies of birds littered the base of a tree, lazily pushed into a small pile while others remained in the very spot they had been dined on. Peeled snake skins were disposed of on the forest floor. Bones of small rodents were scattered the dirt. She had to take awkward strides forward to avoid stepping on a corpse as her mother simply kicked others to the side.

I can see why they’ve gained so much weight, she thought with clenched teeth. Don’t have to go nowhere, don’t have to do nothin’. Just wait for dinner to wander into camp.

The putrid smell of the camp made her mouth water. She wanted to spit. It reminded her of an above-ground graveyard. Perhaps an area in the forest where a species would dump their dead after a vicious assault from multiple predators. These were not suitable living conditions for the young.

To grow up and think this is okay… I just want to wrangle them up. Take them to the Homestead and teach them it’s perfectly sustainable to live off the land, she thought before spitting to her side. The bubbly saliva landed on the skull of a rat. It splashed directly on its forehead before slowly dripping through the empty eye sockets. Great. And now I’m cursed for spitting on the dead.

“Gave up on cleaning, no?” Festelda asked.

“Oh Fez, don’t mind those. The winter snow has recently melted, revealing them all!” her mother laughed nervously. “It’s on the to-do list.”

Together they approached a simple table, crafted from a fallen log in its exact resting place. Its bottom half had been burrowed out to form a long, shallow arch that allowed diners to sit at the edge, using rocks as chairs. Slowly decomposing, it offered not only a place for raccoons to dine, but acted as a meal itself for new growth such as mosses and ferns attached to its sides.

The only occupant of the table was an elder raccoon, whom was too involved with the meal before him to acknowledge Festelda’s presence. He was considerably more obese than the other inhabitants, and the once-black hair around his mouth and eyes had turned a faded grey. As he looked up at the pair in front of him, he loudly removed a small bird bone he had been sucking clean from his mouth. He tossed the bone – ridden of everything but tendons – on the ground behind him while wetly spitting out a few small feathers.

“Oh… Festelda, dear,” he said in a raspy voice, laboring heavily to stand from his rock seat. The lids of his eyes hung wearily. “Come, let me look at you. You’re beautiful, darling…”

“Hey, dad.” Festelda replied with the same flatness as the greeting for her mother.

“What changed your mind, sweetie?” her mother said in the kindest tone she could muster. “Spring is here, and the new generation has arrived. They’re such cute cubs, you’re really going to like them. With your father’s age catching up with him, we’re really going to need a lot of help showing them the land. You know, no one else can gather berries from as high as you can!”

“I’m not back,” Festelda said stubbornly. “Just stopping by to check in. See if anything has changed. Clearly it hasn’t. In fact, I think it’s gotten worse.” Her temper was rising. She wanted to leave immediately. The sight of her family consuming raw flesh sickened her.

Younger raccoons poked their heads out from small nests constructed at the ends of branches where they met the tree. Built from sticks and old tufts of fallen fur, they were dome-shaped with a small entrance hole. Generally, only the young were kept here, allowing extra defense from predators in their early life. After inspecting the disturbance below, the young would toss remnants of their finished meal to the forest floor. Small bones, feathers, or inedible skins were thrown from the small wood holes, followed by squeals demanding additional raw sustenance.

“How was your winter, dear? Did you head south?” her father asked as he wiped blood from his face using the back of his hand.

“Winter! Dad, I’ve been gone for years,” she replied.

Her father’s eyes widened, surprised by the news. “Years? No, no. I remember. You wanted to head south to study flora… You’ve always loved plants, you know,” he replied through slightly watering eyes.

“Your aging mind misleads you, dad…” Festelda replied sharply. “I left quite some time ago based off of the decisions of the camp regarding your diets.”

The old raccoon’s stomach rolled as he leaned back on the rock he had been perched on, dumbfounded by the news he was receiving.

“You know, Fes,” her father said, changing the subject. “It really would be much wiser for you to return home. No trees across the land grow taller and fuller than they do here. Important for protection against the rising threat of the predators…”

“Ha!” she cut him off with a forced laugh. “You’re one to talk.”

“We’re not predators, Fes. Really…” her father replied, stuttering. “More of… scavengers. Just like we have always been. We do not go out hunting in a concerted effort to kill. However, if something should land in, or wander into our camp…”

“That doesn’t justify taking something’s life for a meal,” she demanded.

Demrus caught up and plopped down on a stump at the table next to his father before immediately digging into a freshly caught rat. They had been easy to find, as they were attracted to leftovers and trash littering the camp. He pulled back his lip and bit into the rat’s neck, still alive. The rat released one final loud shriek as a spurt of blood splattered on the table in front of him.

Festelda shuttered and removed herself from the table.

“Demrus… please!” his mother said, rising as well to chase her daughter.

“What?” he said, rolling his eyes. “She’s the one that left in the first place…”

“I can’t be here,” Festelda said calmly, pausing again near the massive boulder. “You have all made terrible decisions.”

“Fez, sweetheart,” her mother pleaded. “You have to understand. This was never a decision. We have been… altered. As if driven by an unknown force with an insatiable taste for meat. I’ve been doing my best, you know.”

Festelda scoffed and shook her head. “Still? More excuses. Nothing has changed… You can’t keep blaming the past on choices you continue to make, mother.”

“I’m serious!” she pleaded. “I only eat berries and leaves in the morning. Limit meat to one meal a day. But, it’s hard, you know… I watch your brother, your father, the rest of the camp consuming delicious flesh, and I just can’t help myself! You know we’re not carnivores. We’re omnivores.”

“Even the children! I saw them… tossing bones and skins from their nests. You’re blaming nature, when it’s the fault of their nurturing… They see what you consume, then they adopt the same diet! This can only change if the new generation is to –”

“Festelda!” a pair of cubs cried out from behind her, running up excitedly. “Is this aunty Festelda we’ve heard about? Let’s play tag around the rock!” they shouted, grabbing her arm as they jumped up and down.

“It’s called willpower, mother,” Festelda said, shoulders drooped, looking at the young cubs. “Nice to meet you, little ones. Tag! You’re it!” she poked one of the cubs in the arm. They both took off running in circles around the boulder.

“You know why I can’t stay here,” she said softly to her mother. “I won’t witness this descent into savagery.”

Tears welled in her mother’s eyes.

“Foxes!” cried a voice from the canopy – a day watch.

The call of predators yanked her mother’s attention, quickly twisting her sadness into alarm. “They’re back…”

“Three! Three foxes!” the voice rang again.

“This is frequent?” Festelda asked. Her mother’s eyes darted, scanning the surrounding tree line.

“They seem to have taken quite a liking to our camp. Your father believes it to be due to the smell.”

“But… they’re not scavengers.”

“No, but it is a signal to a residence of smaller creatures.”

The three kits that had offered to play tag with Festelda scurried to cover, bumping into an older racoon that had joined the commotion. Turning to the closest trees, the group scaled frantically. Claws unanimously digging into bark produced an eerie scratching sound that turned to white noise, muting Festelda’s thoughts. She signed deeply. “So much stress – so much worry you endure just to consume meat and be protected from the consumption of meat…”

“If you’re gonna crash here, you should pay your way somehow!” Demrus called out before his mother could retort, donned in his own pouches and straps. “I trust you’re stocked up on oils?”

Streaks of red fur darting under brush and disrupting foliage in the distance demanded Festelda’s attention.

***

“Killing… killing…” Reblex sang deftly. “Killing time…”

Dahj and Brenloru had taken a seat to review potential combinations of herbs and their intended application.

“Something that patches – for lacerations,” Dahj offered.

“Fern fronds? The moose guessed, scanning the area.

Dahj winced. “Maybe something… a little softer. Pedals, or saturated moss?”

Reblex kicked a thick branch, causing a chipmunk to scurry away from the commotion. The satisfaction of commanding a lesser creature’s retreat from his display of physical strength was enough to suppress the dull ache that throbbed through his toes.

“Careful now…” Brenloru grumbled.

“What? It didn’t hit him.”

“Could have. Pick a different time-waster that doesn’t have the potential to result in injury.”

Watching the fallen nurse log that the chipmunk had retreated to for movement, Reblex switched his gaze back to the debris that the critter had been picking through to search for food. It poked its head up to keep watch for any more flying timber.

Reblex took a few steps forward. His last stride landed on top of the pile of shattered pine cone, crushing it into the soil with the sole of his foot. He maintained eye contact with the chipmunk, demanding a reaction to its meal being eliminated. Small, beady black eyes glazed with defeat, but it remained slightly exposed over the crest of a log. A grin crossed Reblex’s face.

“Watch your step!” Dahj called just before the pinecone was buried in loose dirt. “She was eating that!”

“So?”

“It wasn’t a misstep,” Brenloru said lowly. “Reb, why did you do that?” He raised his voice.

“Why not? It’s not like she can challenge me.”

“Of course she can’t…” Dahj said. “She knows that; we know that; you know that. So what’s the point of provoking a reason to?”

“Because I can, I don’t know.” The interrogation irritated Reblex more than the presence of the critter. They always get like this when they’re frustrated with other matters, he thought, glancing to yet another unfit bandage Brenloru had hastily crafted – worth nothing more than compost for a dank forest.

“What, so, its fights you, then I have to patch up the mess?” Brenloru rose in irritation.

“As if you could,” Reblex retorted under his breath.

“Come again?”

Reblex sharply shook his head twice before making eye contact with Brenloru. The moose’s eyes burned blueish white around shrunken pupils. “Nothing. Sorry, I.” He contorted his ankle to the side, revealing the pile of crushed pinecone beneath.

“Your comment?” Brenloru demanded.

The words were slurred. Reblex looked back to the chipmunk, this time met with a wave of pity that washed over him upon making eye contact. Sorry… he thought.

“I don’t think you weigh the value of my crafting properly,” he heard from his right ear. The moose was going on about something. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to contribute –”

It’s a lesser creature. Smaller, slower, weaker. Of course it should be afraid of us. Reblex’s internal dialogue muted Brenloru’s lecture. But… That was her meal. All she is capable of gathering for herself, and potentially her family – smashed into the earth. He stared at the chipmunk as it frantically resumed its search for something else to satiate her hunger. I was born powerful, strong, bold… cunning. That’s a crime? I won’t apologize for standing taller than others. Reblex shifted his gaze over to present company. The moose pointed at the ground, likely instructing Reblex to gather something. You were designated a task. A task that you willfully accepted, and promised to fulfil. The chipmunk is an equal creature of the land, and should be respected as such.

“Did he threaten you?” Dahj asked, snapping Reblex out of his chain of thoughts.

“Me? What? No, I never…” Reblex stuttered.

“Not you, Reb. The Designer. Did he threaten you, Brenloru?” Apparently Dahj had been paying closer attention to Brenloru’s spiel than Reblex had, realizing what a large chunk of the conversation he had missed.

Brenloru calmed himself. His hands remained quivering as he steadied his own breath. “No. Never threatened, but I just can’t stress enough how high his expectations are of my mending. I fear that is my only value in his eyes. My worth. Should I fail to exhibit progress upon returning, I…”

“Sent away?” Reblex asked, finishing his thought.

“Sent…” Brenloru laughed nervously. “No, not sent – where would he send me?”

Reblex bit his tongue. Promised not to talk about that…

The expression on Brenloru’s face told that he wanted to lurch at Reblex. “Do you believe that the Designer would just… send us away, should he deem us unfit?

Dahj rose. Reblex didn’t reply.

“Where do you think he would send us?” Brenloru asked. Reblex felt ill. The moose’s eyes pierced him, as if trying to dig into his conscious through his own eyeballs and find the response themselves.

“The mountains?”

Brenloru snapped his gaping mouth shut. His clenching jaw muscles showed through his cheeks.

“Mountains?” Dahj said boldly with a laugh, attempting to lighten the mood. “Mountains… Is that the punishment? I seriously doubt –”

“We wouldn’t be the first,” Reblex said.

***

“Two north, one east,” Demrus said quietly. He grabbed Festelda’s shoulder after they pressed themselves up against a pine tree keep out of sight.

She nodded to communicate she was ready to move. Before she did, she looked down at a half-eaten rat that laid beside her left foot. Maggots and flies had claimed the forgotten body, consuming everything but bones – finishing the rodent’s cycle of life returning it to the soil. A frequent, gruesome scene she had never gotten used to. I’m protecting them from being eaten by animals so they can continue to eat other animals, she thought before spitting the smell from her tongue that lingered in the air, wafting off the decomposing rat.

Before she could finish kicking soil over the skeleton using the side of her foot, Demrus was twenty yards ahead of her, silently sticking to the base of trees to keep out of line of sight of the foxes. As she followed, she promised to herself; this is it. This is the last defense mission. The last day I plunge into the woods to needlessly slay those who threaten the endless feast of my elders. She locked eyes on a sole fox that been separated from his group. Daggers drawn, Festelda silently flanked to the fox’s exposed side.

Snarls, snapping, yelping, and thrashing rang through the forest. Blades of ferns sagged under the weight of blood splattered across them. Waxy salal leaves were pressed into soil beneath a tussle of tiny paws.

“Phew!” Demrus called, doubled over to pant. He wiped the side of his blade against the fur of limp fox that laid before him, eviscerated. Demrus lifted the head of the fox – now painted in its own blood – by the limp scruff of its neck to begin retrieving teeth.

“I shouldn’t have come to your camp!” Demrus said out of the side of his mouth as he swung the fox’s head back and forth like a marionette.

Festelda looked down at her paws. Tufts of orange fur clung to her palms, fused by sticky fox blood. She couldn’t remember the events leading to this moment. Surrounding her were the corpses of three dead foxes. Her hands shook as she attempted to convince herself that her brother had taken them on alone. Her nose scrunched. The last one, she promised herself.

“Winter is only a couple months away!” Demrus said, then wrapped a severed fox tail around his head as if fitting it to warm his ears.

Breathing heavily, Festelda retreated to the base of the very tree she had been raised in, leaving Demrus to dispose of the fox’s bodies. Shaking her limbs to wick away blood, she kicked aside bones and stained dirt to make a seat. Her nose scrunched, and he eyes involuntarily flicked away to ignore the sight beneath her.

Her mother approached cautiously. “Thank you… Festelda. Think of it as three lives lost, but many spared.”

Festelda didn’t reply through deep breaths. Using fallen leaves, she wiped blood from her daggers. Here it come, another attempt at constructing an angle of persuading my permanent residency, she thought without making eye contact.

“Do you remember when we first arrived here?” her mother asked, taking a seat against the trunk shared with her daughter. Her head leaned back to gaze at the branches above.

“Of course. It felt like a new chapter. A second chance at becoming a decent species,” Festelda replied through a palm pressed to her nose to suppress the surrounding scent.

“And we got that chance! Because of you, and your father. Sure, he got us most of the way here, but when you recognized that he was unable to finish the journey, you led us to the end. That’s what this gaze needs, Fes; leaders. Someone to share teachings of the land and food chain with future generations.”

“Food chain…” Festelda grumbled. “I’ve tried altering our position on the food chain, and yet, here we are; with my own brother gnawing on a rat.”

“It’s not just about convincing us what to eat,” her mother replied sharply. “We need protection, too. I’ve seen how you fight, Fes. With the males growing older, and the young lacking an instructor, I fear we will become vulnerable!”

Festelda paused, dumbfounded. “That’s what this is about?” she exploded. “You just want me to be a bodyguard for the camp?”

“A bodyguard…” she scoffed. “No, Fes. An able-bodied kin.”

“You want me to stay here and protect the camp from animals trying to kill you while you kill others.”

“Festelda… its truly endearing that you view this land to be so forgiving… so fair,” she said calmly. “Let me tell you, as your mother and as a member of your gaze; it isn’t.” Her tone turned icy.

“Of course it’s not!” Festelda backed away. “Because of your generation pushing the idea of some kind of chain. Figurative stepping stones that place species of the land above one another! You know what I think – you use fear of greater species as a justification to consumer ‘lesser’ ones yourself!”

Her mother pulled a lip back slightly, revealing a fractured canine.

“No. I won’t be part of it. I would stay here if there was any indication of progressing forward; following a path that leads towards ending your appetite for flesh – but there clearly isn’t.”

“You… you would stay if I promised to stop eating critters?” her mother asked pathetically. Her shoulders and lips relaxed, allowing the skin of her body to hang limp from her frame.

“Oh, don’t. Don’t beg me. This is your vice talking. It’s demanding you to use any means necessary to convince me to stay. As a bodyguard – not a daughter. I stay, kill carnivores, and you fall right back into your own ways.”

“No, no! I swear. I promise, I won’t. The others won’t, either,” her mother sobbed. “Even Demrus has shown an interest in a plant-based diet recently. The others will come around eventually as well!”

“I cannot convince you by staying here, mother. I must explore other methods.”

***

“You went there?” Venom dripped from Brenloru’s voice as his rage intensified.

“I…” Reblex stuttered. “Yeah! I had to know… We had to know the truth!”

“You were aware of this, Bren?” Dahj asked, flabbergasted.

“Of course I was,” Brenloru snapped. “What do you think we talked about, down in that chamber for so long?”

“So we’re not the first,” Dahj said solemnly. Surprisingly, he didn’t express shock, anger, rage, or betrayal. It was as if he was expecting this. “So, why didn’t he tell me? He seemed to be quite fond of my potential.”

“Probably because of my reaction,” Brenloru admitted. “I didn’t take to it well. Nearly drove me out of the Homestead.”

“Why didn’t you?” Reblex asked.

“And do what? I had been previously unsuccessful with finding any of my own species. Moose are so elusive that I would famish myself in even attempting to find just one. Lucky for you, bison, your herd had an intended route. At least you knew where to start.”

Reblex felt the relation. Traveling back to such a precarious location amongst the mountains would have been arduous, and likely fruitless.

“You felt like he would send you there too, didn’t you?” Dahj asked delicately.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Brenloru lied.

“You’re scared of him…” Dahj pressed. “You’re not entirely sure of what he’s capable of, or what he can turn you into. You’re a hostage…”

The expression on the moose’s face told that Dahj was onto something.

“I try not to look at it like that anymore,” Brenloru said confidently, but was unable to make eye contact with either of them. “I don’t see the biodome as a punishment, but I do see it as lacking a future. To avoid it, we must prove that we, as individuals, don’t belong there.”

Reblex scoffed. “And this is a future? Running errands and desperately hoping for someone’s approval so he doesn’t send us to the mountains?”

Brenloru’s anger returned. “Don’t you get it? He’s on the verge of hopelessness! You’ve both probably thought it yourself! This is a race. Don’t curse him for exercising methods of trial and error that don’t include canines and claws – praise him for attempting to establish some rules on this planet, before it is forsaken entirely!”

Brenloru plopped back down on a log, then buried his face in the palm of his hands as Reblex and Dahj watched in stunned silence. “We either solve this, soon, or we dive into a never ending timeline of constantly evolving brutality. Every few years, a species sets foot into the same soil that you and your herd, or gaze roams. Its bigger, faster, more vicious, and more lethal than you and yours could ever imagine. Then what? This is the world she wants – the designer of the carnivores.”

Festelda approached the group cautiously, attempting to read the present mood in the air. It was thick, and heavy. She, herself, wore a bleak expression.

“What happened?” asked Reblex, sounding genuinely concerned for once.

“The designer of carnivores has a strong influence over the dietary practices of my gaze,” she said. “I will not bear witness to it. I am ashamed, but I understand. It is best that I remove my presence from them, before I am persuaded as well.”

“How long ago?” Dahj asked, resting his hand on the bludgeon at his side.

“Only a few years. We were behind the curve of omnivores. We thought retreating to a deeper part of the forest would keep us honest. My father led the expedition but was quickly burdened and became too weak to lead; overwhelmed with distractions based on his new appetite. It was as if he was going insane!” Festelda said, pacing. “It plagued his mind like a disease. First, he lost his sense of direction. Weeks into the journey, it seemed he no longer quite knew what he was looking for. Then, his motivation plummeted.”

Festelda turned to Dahj, who was nervously keeping watch for vile creatures merely a fraction of his own size. “And put that away, Dahj! You’re not going to attack them and they’re not going to attack you. These are raccoons we’re talking about,” she scolded.

Dahj removed his hand from the hilt, embarrassed. The comment didn’t stop him from scanning the branches above for those vicious little buggers, though.

“Anyway…” She approached a tree to inspect scratch marks dug into the cragged bark. “Oh yeah, my idiot dad… The thought of consuming flesh and blood had debilitated him. All of his focus had been turned to seeking warm meat to consume. Our gaze could no longer rely on him to be a trustworthy leader, so I took over. I finished leading the trek here. When we arrived, I assigned individuals different tasks in starting a new life. Then winter came… berries had died. Fresh leaves had fallen. Rats and birds were attracted to our camp for shelter.”

“My brother became so hungry that he was the first to kill another living creature. I caught him gobbling down a bird behind that massive rock. I reprimanded him, but promised that I would keep it a secret. He looked so pathetic; blood and feathers covering his face. Then the rest of the camp discovered his sinful diet and followed suit. From there they never turned back.” She looked back to the boulder that marked home. Finding the landmark ironic, she had always thought her willpower to stay at her family’s side would be as strong and immovable as that very boulder.

Dahj let out a heavy sigh. “Many believe it is the mind that controls the body. Sometimes it can be the belly calling the shots.”

Festelda motioned for them to move on. The stench of the rotting flesh wafting through the forest was still making her nauseous.