it will appreciate them.’ He stood up, swinging the dead animals
over his shoulder.
‘Do you swallow the creatures
now?’ Maneck asked.
‘First they must be cooked.’
‘Cooked?’
‘Burned, over a fire.’
‘Fire,’ Maneck repeated. ‘Uncontrolled
combustion. Proper food does not require such preparation. You are a primitive
creature. These steps waste time, time which might be better used to fulfill
your tatecreude. Ae euth’eloi does not interfere with the flow.’
Ramon shrugged. ‘I cannot eat
your food, monster, and I cannot eat these raw.’ He held the carcasses up for
inspection. ‘If we are to get on with me exercising my function, I need to make
a fire. Help me gather sticks.’
Back at the clearing, Ramon
improvised a bow-starter and started a small cookfire. When the flames were
crackling well, the alien turned to look at Ramon. ‘Combustion is proceeding,’
it said. ‘What will you do now? I wish to observe this function cooking.’
Was that an edge of distaste in
the alien’s voice? He suddenly had a flash of how odd the process must seem to
Maneck: catching and killing an animal, cutting its pelt off and pulling out
its internal organs, dismembering it, toasting the dead carcass over a fire,
and then eating it. For a moment, it seemed a grotesque and ghoulish thing to
do, and it had never seemed like that before. He stared down at the gordita in
his hand, and then at his hand itself, sticky with dark blood, and the subtle
feeling of wrongness he’d been fighting off all morning intensified once again.
‘First I must skin them,’ he said resolutely, pushing down the uneasiness, ‘before
I can cook them.’
‘They have skin already, do they
not?’ Maneck said.
Ramon surprised himself by
smiling. ‘I must take their skin off. And their fur. Cut it off, with a knife,
you see? Way out here, I’ll just throw the pelts away, eh? Waste of money, but
then grasshopper pelts aren’t worth much anyway.’
Maneck’s snout twitched, and it
prodded at the grasshoppers with a foot. ‘This seems inefficient. Does it not
waste a large portion of the food, cutting it off and throwing it away? All of
the rind.’
‘I don’t eat fur.’
‘Ah,’ Maneck said. It moved up
close behind Ramon and sank to the ground, its legs bending backward
grotesquely. ‘It will be interesting to observe this function. Proceed.’
‘I need a knife,’ Ramon said.
When Maneck said nothing, he added, ‘The man would have a knife.’
‘You will require one also?’
‘Well, I can’t do this with my
teeth,’ Ramon said.
Wordlessly, the alien plucked a
cylinder from its belt and handed it to Ramon. When Ramon turned it over in
bafflement, Maneck reached across and did something to the cylinder, and a
six-inch silver wire sprang out stiffly. Ramon took the strange knife and began
gutting the gordita. The wire slid easily through the flesh. Perhaps it
was the hunger that focused Ramon so intently on his task, because it wasn’t
until he had set the gordita on a spit over the fire and begun on the
first grasshopper that he realized what the alien had done.
It had handed him a weapon.
The thing had made its mistake.
Now it would die for it.
He fought the sudden rush of
adrenaline, struggling to keep the blade from wobbling in his hands, to keep
his hands from shaking. Bent over the careful task of digging out the
grasshopper’s rear gills, he glanced at Maneck. The alien seemed to have
noticed nothing. The problem was, where to strike it? Stabbing it in the body
was too great a risk; he didn’t know where the vital organs were, and he couldn’t
be sure of striking a killing blow. Maneck was larger and stronger than he was.
In a protracted fight, Ramon knew, he would lose. It had to be done swiftly.
The throat, he decided, with a rush of exhilaration that was almost like
flying. He would slash the knife as deep across the
over his shoulder.
‘Do you swallow the creatures
now?’ Maneck asked.
‘First they must be cooked.’
‘Cooked?’
‘Burned, over a fire.’
‘Fire,’ Maneck repeated. ‘Uncontrolled
combustion. Proper food does not require such preparation. You are a primitive
creature. These steps waste time, time which might be better used to fulfill
your tatecreude. Ae euth’eloi does not interfere with the flow.’
Ramon shrugged. ‘I cannot eat
your food, monster, and I cannot eat these raw.’ He held the carcasses up for
inspection. ‘If we are to get on with me exercising my function, I need to make
a fire. Help me gather sticks.’
Back at the clearing, Ramon
improvised a bow-starter and started a small cookfire. When the flames were
crackling well, the alien turned to look at Ramon. ‘Combustion is proceeding,’
it said. ‘What will you do now? I wish to observe this function cooking.’
Was that an edge of distaste in
the alien’s voice? He suddenly had a flash of how odd the process must seem to
Maneck: catching and killing an animal, cutting its pelt off and pulling out
its internal organs, dismembering it, toasting the dead carcass over a fire,
and then eating it. For a moment, it seemed a grotesque and ghoulish thing to
do, and it had never seemed like that before. He stared down at the gordita in
his hand, and then at his hand itself, sticky with dark blood, and the subtle
feeling of wrongness he’d been fighting off all morning intensified once again.
‘First I must skin them,’ he said resolutely, pushing down the uneasiness, ‘before
I can cook them.’
‘They have skin already, do they
not?’ Maneck said.
Ramon surprised himself by
smiling. ‘I must take their skin off. And their fur. Cut it off, with a knife,
you see? Way out here, I’ll just throw the pelts away, eh? Waste of money, but
then grasshopper pelts aren’t worth much anyway.’
Maneck’s snout twitched, and it
prodded at the grasshoppers with a foot. ‘This seems inefficient. Does it not
waste a large portion of the food, cutting it off and throwing it away? All of
the rind.’
‘I don’t eat fur.’
‘Ah,’ Maneck said. It moved up
close behind Ramon and sank to the ground, its legs bending backward
grotesquely. ‘It will be interesting to observe this function. Proceed.’
‘I need a knife,’ Ramon said.
When Maneck said nothing, he added, ‘The man would have a knife.’
‘You will require one also?’
‘Well, I can’t do this with my
teeth,’ Ramon said.
Wordlessly, the alien plucked a
cylinder from its belt and handed it to Ramon. When Ramon turned it over in
bafflement, Maneck reached across and did something to the cylinder, and a
six-inch silver wire sprang out stiffly. Ramon took the strange knife and began
gutting the gordita. The wire slid easily through the flesh. Perhaps it
was the hunger that focused Ramon so intently on his task, because it wasn’t
until he had set the gordita on a spit over the fire and begun on the
first grasshopper that he realized what the alien had done.
It had handed him a weapon.
The thing had made its mistake.
Now it would die for it.
He fought the sudden rush of
adrenaline, struggling to keep the blade from wobbling in his hands, to keep
his hands from shaking. Bent over the careful task of digging out the
grasshopper’s rear gills, he glanced at Maneck. The alien seemed to have
noticed nothing. The problem was, where to strike it? Stabbing it in the body
was too great a risk; he didn’t know where the vital organs were, and he couldn’t
be sure of striking a killing blow. Maneck was larger and stronger than he was.
In a protracted fight, Ramon knew, he would lose. It had to be done swiftly.
The throat, he decided, with a rush of exhilaration that was almost like
flying. He would slash the knife as deep across the
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