Dust of History: Hunting (1)

The blade strangled the neck, and the body in the hand tensed and twitched violently, trembling disproportionately to its small size, as if it wanted to burst out all the life contained in it. As the warm and smelly liquid gradually dripped into the mouth, the trembling between the fingers also gradually withered, and finally dissipated. Asa squeezed the mountain mouse as hard as he could, not caring that the contents of his stomach were also squeezed out. It wasn't until the last drop of bodily fluid dripped slowly that Asa left the pinched and deformed mountain mouse, and stretched out his tongue to lick the blood around his mouth into his mouth.

I don't want to die.

The smell of blood evaporated from the stomach. The throat let out a deep roar on its own initiative, dull and ambiguous, long and deep, not like it came from an organ, but from a certain fold in the soul.

He remembered this sound. When he was three years old, he hid in a tree and watched several hunters in the village round up a wounded wolf. He was shaken by the low howl of the wolf, not with fear, but with the feeling of a deepest string in his soul resonating with it. For some time thereafter he was obsessed with learning the language of animals.

He now understands that the sound was originally meaningless, it was just the scream of life before the threat of death, and it was released after the strong desire to survive and the almost crazy animal nature overflowed in his heart.

Three days of drinking blood and extreme tension, as well as critical physical strength. The death threat that followed him and his own strong desire to survive, the torment of the two almost turned him into a complete beast. But fortunately, reason still dominates all actions.

Asa is very aware of the gap in ability between himself and the stalker. He remembered very clearly how the heads of the two infantrymen of the third unit were smashed like watermelons in the first encounter. The only thing that can be relied on now is the advantage of insight into the opponent's intentions.

The stalkers did not pursue him with all their strength. This was not a chase, the stalker didn't want to catch up with him as soon as possible, and then risked injury to bite each other with a wild beast in desperate situation. This is hunting, chasing the prey all the time, letting the prey gradually weaken in fear and running away, and then come over when you are 120% sure, kill him like a mouse, and cut off his head . Whether it's physical factors or the ability to survive in this swampy jungle, it's impossible for him to get rid of the hunt. Both chasing and fleeing are very clear about this.

During these three days, Asa pretended to be running as fast as the stalker wanted to see. Physical fitness is also declining as quickly as if he was really running away. If you can't make a fire, you don't have enough food. Eating any animal's meat raw in the lizard swamp is a death penalty. The parasites in the human body are deadly. Instead, you can only find some non-toxic insects to eat raw. . Although the raw blood of animals is safe and can be used as a small supplement, it is not enough to cope with the sweat and physical strength lost in a large amount of exercise. The lack of salt and food has almost reached the limit of tolerance, and the illusion of reality spread during these three days must be ended with an action that cannot make any mistakes.

With great luck, three non-venomous worms were quickly found in the surrounding grass and shrubs. It was about the size of a finger, writhing vigorously from side to side in his hand. Pinch the head with your fingers, and then slowly strangle, the green feces are squeezed out. Squeeze the body of the worm without using too much force, splash the nutritious juice, and expel the possibly poisonous excrement as much as possible. This is a very delicate craft. After using it for a few days, Asa is already very proficient.

The tender worm meat quickly turned into a thick paste between the teeth, and the creamy bitter taste swirled on the taste buds like the swamp air sticking to the skin. Asa carefully grinds it with his teeth, and uses his tongue to carefully search for larger pieces of meat in the meat paste, so as to ensure that all the worms can be reduced to the smallest possible unit for easy digestion. Every drop of nutrition is precious, the driving force for the next, and the hope of living.

Use a knife to dig a hole about a foot in the ground, and bury the mountain mouse's body. Every time he killed an animal during these three days, he would spare no effort to bury the corpse.

He carried the knife on his back, checked himself carefully, and evened out the protrusions of every clothing as much as possible. Like a careful sentinel stepping up a narrow sentry platform, he carefully stepped on the mound where the mountain mouse had just been buried. , and then slowly squatted down and lay down, like a huge deformed worm, slowly moved towards the pool of sewage next to it.

He focused all his attention on this ugly movement, carefully controlling every muscle in his body, letting his body stick to the ground as stretched as possible, without leaving a single spot on the soft mud Conspicuous marks. Any loss of control and uncoordination of any movement will make three days of scheming completely in vain.

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you slowly slid into the chest-high sewage without splashing the slightest splash. The weight of the knife was just enough to keep him from floating up, and he moved the mud at the bottom of the water in the direction he remembered. This pool of sewage leads to a temporary creek formed by the rainy season. He came here on purpose, and he also chose this terrain to bury the corpse. Everything was planned.

There were slight pains in several places on his body, and the leech was on his body. Asa ignored them, they would loosen their mouths after they had sucked enough blood, and if they were forced to pull back, the suckers would remain in the skin and cause infection. The most important thing now is to dive as far as possible before the next breath.

I re-examined every detail just now in my mind. There is no flaw, and the great joy of being born spontaneously arises. The only problem now was the carcass of the mountain rat, which had to rot enough to give off a certain smell before the stalkers came.

I just need a rotten luck right now.

On the muck of rotting deposits, Asa, paddling his limbs like a carrion lizard, prayed ferociously.

In the afternoon, the rare sun showed its face in the lizard swamp.

The sun was cut by the branches and fell piecemeal. The wet ground turned the dead body of the sun into a veil that swirled between the foliage of the trees and the ground. In this sweltering and humid barrier, all swamp life grows quickly and then dies quickly for other life to grow, even the rapid growth seems to be full of life.

Stalkers watch in silence as a pack of scavenger lizards gleefully grabs a mountain mouse carcass. He hated the slimy smell of these ugly scavengers, it was too strong for his keen sense of smell. A larger lizard successfully snatched the corpse, turned and fled, and the others immediately swarmed and disappeared into the forest, leaving only a dug out pit and traces all over the ground.

For humans, this prey is quite good, with good speed, agility, and strength. The stalker was interested and quite sure of killing him in frontal combat.

However, considerable certainty is not enough. This is not a battlefield, but a hunt, and it takes a certain degree of certainty to gradually evolve into a sufficient certainty. Since yesterday, the footprints have gradually become weak and vain.

Now, the Stalker feels confident enough.

But it's also a strange prey. Although it was indeed being chased, the footprints did not show the mess and panic that the hunted prey should have. There is a strange firmness revealed in the feeble steps, it is not a ignorant escape, but something else is hidden in it.

In the past three days, the cover-ups have been done well, but one stupid mistake has been made - burying the corpses of animals that have drunk their blood. This is completely counterproductive, and the lizards will dig up the corpse and eat it, looking for the smell of decay. A stalker can pretty much just follow the stench of a swarm of lizards.

Incomprehensible mentality, stupid mistakes, there seems to be a faint connection between the two, this feeling makes the hunter feel a little strange. However, it is only limited to strangeness. After catching up, killing, and cutting off the head, there is nothing strange about it. No animal can escape from its stalk in this swamp jungle. The stalker has absolute confidence in this. absolute.

But the hunters were surprised to find that all the traces only ended here, and did not extend in any direction.

The only thing left in the air is the strong stench of the swamp lizard. The stalker bent down, carefully examining any clues on the ground. Although the lizards crawled and scrambled for food and made a mess of the surrounding ground, for the super observation and experience of the hunter, the traces of the prey are still visible, and it takes a while to wipe out all the traces around. The survey was clear.

With some frivolous but unflustered steps, there was no trace of stepping on his own footprints and retreating back. He just turned around in the surrounding bushes a few times, probably looking for food. The stalker was even able to tell that the first food he found, probably a worm, was found under two shofers. The front half of the two footprints there is slightly deeper, showing a forward shift of the center of gravity in the stooping action. But other than that, nothing was found. The footprints stopped abruptly as soon as they reached the earth pit where the corpse was originally buried.

This is completely beyond the scope of experience accumulated by the hunter's tribe for many years. Escapes, cover-ups, declining physical fitness... the stalker has to rely on his own mind to connect these, hoping to draw something other than experience from it. But a mind that lacks the ability to think logically can hardly do this task. When he realized that he had fallen into a strange trap step by step, just as the fugitive expected, an uncontrollable rage frantically occupied all his thoughts.

A lizard scrambled back, sniffing around the pit, hoping to find some good. But it immediately became the object of venting for the furious people next to it. Under the violent blow, the huge body flew high ~IndoMTL.com~ and then fell into the sewage pool, stirring up soaring sewage and silt to splash around. Along with the muddy water, there were also a few leeches wriggling awkwardly, their bodies swollen and rounded after eating, trying to return to the water. The stalker noticed it, picked one up for a closer look, cracked it with a snap, and tasted the liquid that came out of it. Then a ferocious expression that other races could not understand appeared on his face.

Louching on the ground, the most sensitive sense of smell on the entire continent finally discerned a trace of the smell he was looking for from the stimulation of the foul smell of the lizard's mucus and the rotten smell of the soil. The smell extended to the sewage puddles.

Pull out your heart while you're alive, tear that hot and throbbing thing between your teeth, and swallow the freshest blood contained in it through your throat into your body, and drain the cunning contained within. Turn into your own strength.

There must be no damage to the head. Slowly dig out the brains from the eye sockets and eat them, peel off the flesh, and ask the best craftsmen to grind the skulls. This perfect trophy can be placed on the ancestral tomb. As a sacrifice, this is a further testimony to the hunting skills that the tribe is proud of.

You are my good prey.

A kind of long-lost excitement filled the whole body of the running stalker, which was the feeling that only stirred in his body when he was chasing the most beautiful female in the tribe when he was just mature.