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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 14: Brown 286
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Takano 88
Derek had thought quite a bit about this. They needed food; they had no money, and the only things they had they could possibly exchange for money were their gold necklaces marking them as heroes of the caliphate--like selling your medals, not something you want to do. But he had lived a life where hunting and foraging were the mainstays of food, so he knew how to do it.
The problem was, he had lived that life as a sprite, and they hunted mice and foraged berries and seeds. Those would not do. He wasn’t certain whether if he ate those as Morach it would mean he wouldn’t be hungry when he changed to Derek, but he was certain that mice and seeds were not going to make a decent meal for his wife. He could probably be a decent bowhunter as Derek, but his bow was much too small for a full-sized human. He did not really see himself running down a deer and killing it with a knife or a chain.
He could use the laser rifle, but there were only so many power packs and they didn’t have electricity at the house so he couldn’t recharge them.
His best bet, he had concluded, was to go out as Morach and find a rabbit or two, or something similarly small, shoot it with one of his arrows (save the sleep drug; he had killed game with this bow before he invented the drug), and turn back into Derek to carry it back to the house to clean and cook.
They had put their things in the bedroom, including hiding the new musical instruments under the bed, and he had sent Vashti to forage for a bit of firewood. There was some cut up in the back yard, but they would need it for the woodstove.
Dressed in his size-changing suit and carrying nothing but his bow and a quiver full of regular tiny arrows (he wondered whether he should bring the drug in case, but decided it wasn’t that much of a risk), he angled away from the city but toward the river, expecting to find open marsh of a sort that would appeal to rabbits. It was about a mile’s walk, but his guess proved correct--uninhabited marsh of a sort that would challenge humans. Fortunately, he didn’t have to cross it as a human, yet. He downsized to Ferris Hoffman, the gargoyle-like intermediate form Lauren had taught him to become as a way of transitioning between the human form of his original birth and the sprite form in which he was born the second time. Then he became that sprite Theian Torenu Morach. The glow of his skin in the afternoon sun would do more to camouflage him against people seeing him from the ground than it would to reveal him. It might, it occurred to him, show his position to large raptors, but in a world in which there were no sprites it was unlikely that a hawk or an eagle would attack a flying creature that glowed. So prepared, he set an arrow to his bowstring and flew out over the marsh.
There were some hawks flying above, using their keen eyesight to scan the ground below, but they seemed to be ignoring him. Perhaps at fifteen inches he was large enough that they did not consider him prey. He sailed closer to the ground; his eyes were not so good as a hawk, but he cast very little shadow given both his lithe form and the light that he emitted.
He noted that the ground was broken up significantly, with lots of rivulets and mud, but that there were enough grassy portions to be a habitat for small animals and waterfowl. That might give them some variety in their diet. He saw a turtle, but decided that his marksmanship was probably not adequate to get past its natural armor.
Then he spotted it: a rabbit, large enough he thought to make a good dinner for two. He circled to the front--if he shot it face on, it would have trouble turning to escape before he could put a second arrow in it, and it would probably take at least two, possibly four, arrows to bring it down. He came down and placed one foot on the ground in front of it, and fired his first shot directly into the neck behind the ears. The creature startled, and started to turn away, but Derek was quick enough to launch another arrow into its side. Then as it started to hop away he followed it, and fired his third shot into its back, which sank deeply and stopped it in its tracks.
He landed beside it. The ground here seemed solid enough to support him. He checked first to be sure it was dead, then stepped back so as not to land on it when he grew.
He saw a shadow--a hawk was descending, having seen his kill and looking for an easy meal. Not sure what to do, he transformed into Ferris. The sudden appearance of a child-sized creature next to the rabbit obviously startled the bird, as it veered off back into the sky.
Ferris. Ferris’ legs were shorter than Derek’s, but he was lighter, and although he couldn’t fly, those wings helped him jump and glide. Ferris was the way to cross the marsh with the rabbit. He picked up his kill, and started feeling his way through the grass, looking for solid ground. What if someone saw him, took his picture? Not that likely, he thought. When were cameras invented? Maybe if there were some nature photographer out trying to get pictures of the birds--but he would have seen them, and anyway, they would have snapped a shot of Morach if they were here. He hopped a few rivulets, avoided some deep-looking mud, and soon was back on solid ground. Transforming back to Derek he made his way home. Supper was settled for tonight.
He was glad to be done because the Sun was beating down. And the air was soggy enough to cut with a knife. One thing he needed to find out was the month. If this was February, he was going to have to seriously think about inventing air conditioning.
Getting Vashti into the kitchen, he pulled out his butcher knife, which had long been his only combat knife. Now it was going to be used for something more appropriate to its title. He put it on the chopping block next to the sink on which the rabbit lay ready for skinning. He envisioned what he would do if this was a mouse, and then scaled it up. With Vashti watching, he pulled out his three arrows, and set them aside for later cleaning.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his wife was looking on with interest. One of the benefits of marrying a wife from a low tech caliphate was that, unlike a modern American girl, this did not gross her out--at least not yet anyway, he hoped.
Taking his butcher knife, he grabbed a handful of loose fur on the back. Then he slit a small hole in the loose fur. It was not large enough, as he had used small sticks for mice, but here, he could use his fingers. Putting the knife aside, he slid in a finger on each hand, and then with as much strength as he could he ripped left and right with his hands. The fur and hide came smoothly off most of the rabbit. This was actually easier than a mouse, he thought.
Pulling the hide and fur loose from the front legs took a small bit of struggle. Vashti clapped. He grinned at her. Vashti was definitely not a victim of fluffy bunny syndrome. When she saw a rabbit on the table, she saw food. No doubt, if he brought home a baby bunny for her to play with, she’d love to play with it as much as any girl or boy would, but a dead rabbit on the cutting board was an altogether different thing in her mind, he thought, observing her careful attention to the task at hand.
He twisted the head several times around on its neck, and it came loose. After that, he cut on both sides of the furry tail, and gently pulled that, and the whole length of the intestine, out. It was rather like a long black and white alternately colored straw. Spreading the rabbit out, he cut from the rib cage down its belly. The dark gray and black innards contrasted with the red meat and whites of the exterior. Scooping this out with his whole hand was similar to what he did with the mouse. Then pushing past the layer of stretchy membrane that separated the heart and lungs from the stomach, he pulled those out as well.
He took the carcasse out back, and rinsed it clean of blood on the outside, and mostly on the inside also, at the water pump. This reminded him that he was going to have to properly dispose of the unpleasant and inedible bits and bobs because he did not want to attract animals. That had been one of the things he had been taught as a sprite. Attracting raptors or foxes had been dangerous to sprites. Here, well, Cajun Country was famous (or was it infamous) for alligators.
Back inside, he removed the still furred feet by dint of twisting and breaking and cutting. Then he removed the shoulders and haunches with his knife. After that came the backstrap, and he was done. It was not much, but it would do. While he cleaned up, Vashti put the rabbit meat in water and salt, and got the woodstove going. The rest of the day the two practiced with their musical instruments, and for a break wandered their property. Early they had rabbit soup, and spent the evening sitting on the swing just chatting, and watching the occasional traveler go by.
There is a behind-the-writings look at the thoughts, influences, and ideas of this chapter, along with eleven other sequential chapters of this novel, in mark Joseph "young" web log entry #501: Characters Orienting. Given a moment, this link should take you directly to the section relevant to this chapter. It may contain spoilers of upcoming chapters.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
