The Unseen World

Flake stretched and checked himself for injuries, luckily both his roll and small body kept him from hurting himself when he leapt from the falling mammoth. Walking over to the fresh carcass of the mammoth Flake was expecting to be met with the cheers and hoots he got from people after successfully taking a great risk to aid the tribe. Yet instead he was met by mad glares of anger and frustration, already he knew was being scolded as a child; and that made one of his eyes twitch with rage. “Never do anything so stupid and dangerous ever again! Do you even know how many ways you could have been hurt, how many ways you could have gotten someone else hurt?! It was luck you weren't killed with that stunt!” Sun Hunter shouted from behind the mammoth, in truth he wasn't actually mad he was just overtaken by the madness of adrenaline and worried for Flake who he saw as something of an adopted grandson.

The others nodded in agreement and threw in their own chiding remarks and reprimands as well, though Flake was so enraged that he didn't pay attention to anyone beyond Sun Hunter. Flake would look to Falling Rain, the young man he risked that mad maneuver to save; only to see that the boy was too shaken by the experience to say anything, much less be of any use to Flake's cause. So Flake would just grit his teeth and bear the burden of his unfair infantilization, though in his tiny mind he raged like a wild beast. For he, a grown man with gray hairs of his own, a father, a hunter, a provider, the strong man of his true tribe was forced to be reduced to nothing but a mere child through no fault of his own. It was beyond infuriating, beyond humiliating, a fierce infringement upon his primitive ego.

When the berating was done Sun Hunter and the others stood guard around the colossal carcass while a young runner was sent to fetch the women and the rest of the butcherers. For the hunt had exhausted the men but they were still needed to protect the kill from bestial would be theives. Beyond an initial cut to the stomach to ensure the pierced stomach wouldn't spoil the meat, butchering progress only began two hours later when the women and children arrived. Though when Loving Water heard the news of what happened and Flake's reckless actions she would rush over in tears and throw her arms around him. “Never put yourself in harm's way like that again!” Loving Water sobbed, though her words were muffled by Flake's clothes as she buried her face in his tiny chest. Flake returned the hug hesitantly though in truth he didn't know what he hated more, seeing Loving Water cry or Sun Hunter’s reprimands.

After the sobbing broke everyone quickly went about their usual roles when butchering such an absolutely colossal carcass. The men stood guard with spears around the perimeter to keep a vigil against rival predators. Meanwhile the women and the adolescents quickly set about butchering of the massive carcass. Flake, because of his bold efforts against the mammoth, was let off on butchering duty and allowed to stand guard with the men. The first was the massive effort in fishing out the organs such as the entrails and stomach, those were set aside to be used to hold water or items that can't get wet. Next was the skin on the side of the mammoth facing up away from the ground. The warm fur could be made into dozens of pairs of clothing or used to patch up the tents; it would be skinned and cut into manageable sections for its initial use in carrying the meat and entrails back to camp. Next finally was the meat, the first piece of which to be cut off and cooked in a newly lit fire would be the hump above the shoulders.

Rich in fat and muscle when the meat was done cooking it was first offered to the hunters who went through the grueling effort to bring the mammoth down to begin with. Flake took a bite of the meat and juices exploded in his mouth, rich and earthy, yet tough in texture. Not too different from the taste of the much smaller Long Tooths they ate back on Flake's island home. The hot meal did wonders to soothe Flake’s flaring nerves, both from the anger of his infantilization and his general coming down off his adrenaline high. Yet as the sun began to fall behind the western horizon not even half the massive carcass was butchered yet for it was a long and difficult process to butcher such a massive animal.

By the light of the fire, now burning off the fat wood of the tree the mammoth smashed with its massive curled tusks; the women kept working tirelessly to butcher the mammoth. Yet as the black hand of night began to strangle to grassy steppes a new threat began to stalk the inky shadows. A female lion as tall at the shoulder as Flake was boldly strode forth with a chuff and bared fangs. As the empress of these lands she expected to easily bully these rival predators off their kill and swoop her pride in for an easy meal. The hard smack of a spear haft to her nose told her otherwise as she turned and leapt back into the shadows of the tall grass. Other lionesses would come from the shadows and mock a charge at one of the men defending the perimeter, yet the men once again held their courage and didn't back down. Smacks to their noses or glancing cuts to their faces, legs, and chests would eventually convince the lions that this kill wasn't worth such a bold approach. Still that night none would sleep as the echoing roars of pantherine rage shook the very night air in their lungs. Still the beasts kept out of the light of the fire, and none among the tribe were allowed to venture out alone for the night.

Children clung desperately to their mothers, men clung desperately to their spears, and Flake clung desperately to himself as his spear had been shattered by the mammoth during the hunt. By the time the sun climbed over the Eastern horizon the whole tribe was shaking deep in their souls yet they did not relent. New flakes were spalled off the stone brought with them before being turned into new blades, old blades were re-knapped to sharpen their edges, and thin razor sharp flakes were broken for sake of the fine and delicate work such as harvesting sinew. With the mammoth being too large to flip over, the women had to butcher it from the top down. As morning drifted to noon many of the lions on the periphery scattered to find some food that wasn't guarded at the end of spears. Enough to where some carriers could be escorted back to the canoes with as much mammoth meat as they could carry, before their paddle back up river and begin the meat smoking and hide tanning process back at the safety of the camp.

It was only by late in the evening of that day would the mammoth fully be butchered. The meat was the first thing which the tribe caravaned back to their camp, the return trip would largely consist of what bones were useful for tool making, the hide, and the ivory. Yet one bone was left at the site of the hunt, the skull, which except for the long tusks would be left intact and standing up upon a pile of bones not fit for tool making as an offering, both to the land but more importantly to the matriarch’s herd. A dignified grave for them to mourn at as thanks for their sacrifice to feed the tribe, some of the toughest cuts were even left as a peace offering to the lions. Flake didn't understand it, for his people while they did mourn their dead they didn't bury them, nor did they ever evolve the concept of such strange rituals. To Flake all the tribe was doing was wasting time in a dangerous, predator filled territory for no gain. Still he brooded and waited at the canoes, not exactly eager for the return journey but more than wanting to leave the lion’s territory and return to the camp.

Those who hadn't already left to ensure the meat wouldn't spoil before it could be smoked at the safety of their camp eventually packed themselves into their canoes, filled to the brim with bones and long furred hides. His mind already racked by the constant rattling from the roars of pantherine doom just outside his field of vision, Flake was not overtaken by the wounds of his mind. Instead Flake was present in the moment as he had to use a long branch to help guide and push the bogged down canoe while Sun Hunter and Loving Water paddled for all their worth against the currents of the river. The hunting party didn't make it very far that evening before the sun drifted back to night. Just far enough up river to know they had left the territory of the lions. Still a small fire was lit as some of the men stayed up to keep watch. With this much meat you could never be too careful, there were still countless other predators that could easily tear a man asunder in an attempt to steal an easy meal.

Tonight however Flake would get some sleep under the cover of a mammoth hide, it would be a much needed reprieve from the stress of last night or his brooding rage at his treatment by the rest of the tribe. Those who didn't keep a midnight vigil awoke with the morning sun and by evening of that night they were back in their camp. The canoes were quickly unloaded as the meat was passed to a series of bonfires above which were makeshift ladders tied from woven grass ropes and sticks. The meat was hung well above the fires upon the wooden sticks where they would slowly be dried out from exposure to the smoke and heat of the fires below. Those who had arrived at the camp before set about creating a full production line to process the mammoth meat before it rotted and their hard work would go to waste.

When the bones and hides were unloaded into the store tents Flake would set about quickly making himself useful. Being as he was too short to reach the tops of the smoking racks, Flake would join the wood gatherers in making sure the smoking pits had plenty of wood to burn through the night. Flake used his natural climbing abilities to easily scale trees and break down dry branches before sending them clattering to the ground below for the adolescents to gather. Flake nor the rest of the tribe were given any rest as all hands were needed to preserve the mammoth meat before it could spoil. Only when the moon replaced the evening sun did Flake make his way back to the camp, which was still a blaze in human activity as tribesmen rushed to tend fires, flip cuts of meat, or stretch hides on their racks. In truth is somewhat surprised Flake at how well lit and active the camp was, for it was by far beyond what his people could ever achieve with their much more limited mastery of fire.

Flake, exhausted, walked to his tent where Loving Water had already laid down for the night; ever since he joined the tribe they have shared a tent. Sleeping under the furs that made up their makeshift bed her clothes were set aside to dry and air out. The way she laid there so peacefully, so vulnerable, so trusting of Flake completely. It filled his mind with memories of his old mates Three Fingers and Loud Call and how they would sleep with each other. Whether it was the memories of his past loves, the thrill of a successful hunt, or red meat running in his veins, Flake quickly stripped down as well to join her under the furs. Under the furs Flake would tentatively approach Loving Water’s back in just the same way he would approach Three Fingers back on his island home. There when the heat of her bare back could be felt on his chest he slowly reached his hands forward and around her curved waist before cupping his small hands over her breasts before he pressed himself against her back. It was a wordless request for them to mate, here and now.

Loving Water hadn't actually fallen asleep yet, still the small calloused hands on her breasts and the chest against her back did make her jolt. Reaching a hand behind her she both from the stress of the mammoth hunt and the later nighttime concert of the ravenous lions more harshly than usual shoved Flake away. It wasn't the first time Flake had tried to mate her, yet what Flake's primitive mind couldn't comprehend was the more complicated social aspects of why she refused to let him mate. Even if she did fully see him as a man now, which she was still hesitant to do. Flake to her, was an adopted son, and mating with him would be a taboo equal to incest.

When the soft hand so harshly shoved his chest away Flake let go as he had done time and time again before. Yet the sheer harshness paired with Flake's long standing frustration from the hunt as his general treatment by the tribe sent him into an internal rage like no other. Flake in a deathly silence all but for his gritting teeth stood up from the pile of furs without so much as even pulling them down off him. There he stomped over to his clothes in a fit and hastily threw them on while Loving Water laid there pretending to sleep, not wanting to deal with what to her was a child having a tantrum. Flake non-verbally pushed the hide tent flap open and ran out into the night.

Hate, raw, beastial, and primal hate burned through Flakes mind like burning of madness as stormed off into the treeline away from the camp. Had it just been the rejection Flake's animal brain wouldn't have flared such as it did, even his old mates whom he loved more than anything had rejected his advances countless times and he was never sent into such a rage. This was the explosive animal minded reaction to undue stress in the extreme. Had every gust of wind in the storm that ripped him from his true family had screamed hatred, that would not portray even a fraction of the hatred he held for each member of this tribe of giants in this moment. Never was he to be seen as the man he was, never was he to make his word known and respected to his fellow tribesman, never was he to fall in love again, never was he to sink into the biological ecstasy of mating again after knowing its sweet fruit countless times in his homeland, never was he to father child whom he could potentially see grow up a have children of their, never was he again to be who he was; a father, a provider, a caretaker, and a linchpin of his community.

That storm, and that alien monstrosity who whipped it up with the beating of its wings took everything Flake had from him, his people, his tribe, his family, his home, his manhood, his very identity and primitive sense of self. All were gone now, all were replaced with this cruel mockery that reduced to him nothing but a perpetual child and an outcast. Every single joy in his life that he knew was now gone, and Flake's animal mind finally snapped. In his madness he clawed at his body and face with his curled fingers, his jaw clenched tight; as if he were trying to rip out some unknown beast’s throat with his teeth, and the only thought on his mind was bloodshed. To forsake this false tribe forever and take a spear in both hands, only to sink it into the heart of that wretched woman, and that insufferable old man. To stalk the shadows like an animalistic nightmare and slaughter every single one of those false people who had done him wrong and to cannibalize their remains in a macabre feast of mad blood and insane gore.

Flake's eyes watered as his breath came in shallow pants, by the time his animal mind worked itself into exhaustion and his human brain finally overtook it again he found himself sitting on the branch of a sturdy and ancient oak tree in a small grove not far from the camp. Flake could feel the deep scratches on his face, his breathing finally slowed and every ounce of mad hatred and anger was replaced with an overwhelming sorrow and regret. To think any of those thoughts about his own tribe, about those who rescued him from certain death, about those who took in a complete stranger with open arms. Even Flake's small mind understood the vileness of his rapid animal mind. It disgusted Flake to his core so he simply buried his knees in his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs as he looked up at the night sky.

Only when the moon began to sink in the sky did Flake finally collect himself enough to be an actual person again, as opposed to the mad animal he had let himself become that night. So with aching limbs from a night of inhuman tension Flake climbed down from the oak and started walking back to camp. The smoke plumed heavy in the late night air from the smoking pits, yet as Flake crested the hill he would be met not with the hustle and bustle of the busy camp, but a scene of true horror. Tents burning from the fire of the smoke pits, the bodies of tribesmen torn asunder and cannibalized, the ground painted in mad blood and insane gore. It's as if the insane visions of his animal mind had come to life. Flake dropped low and snuck through the grass in horror. How did this happen? What could have done this? Who had made his macabre visions of insanity come to life against his will? Flake's first goal was to sneak to his tent, pleading that Loving Water be ok; that she wouldn't have a spear run through her heart. Opening the tent his worst fears were confirmed true, one of the tribe’s own stone tipped spears had pierced her hand she must have raised in defense before it was run through her chest, through her heart, and into the furs she slept on below her.

Flake screamed aloud in a mad animal rage, as he ripped the spear from Loving Water's body in a futile attempt to save his long dead love. Pulling with all his spear was freed from her cold embrace still in one piece. Flake would mourn her death in the way of his people, by brushing her hair from her face that was still frozen in a look of horror. Before he would hold the spear close to him in silent, somber vigil. Flake dwelled for a moment until the acrid smoke of burning fur began to flood his nostrils and he knew he had to leave. Exiting the tent he took one last look at Loving Water's corpse and deeply regretted their last interaction, and that he wasn't there to save her when she needed him.

Flake left the tent only to be met with horror. A human, built as if it were part of Flake's people with their black skin, short hair, defined brow, and a lack of a chin, yet it stood as tall as a member of this tribe. In one hand it held the dead body of Sun Hunter himself by his throat, his eyes ruptured and hair smoking. In the other hand he held lightning, loosely, it crackled around his hand like a storm in miniature. Flake looked up to the man's eyes only to not be met with a snarl, or gnashing teeth, but an uncharacteristically soft and concerned look. The look you give to finding a lost orphaned child in the wilderness. That look, even more than the deaths of Sun Hunter and Loving Water, sent Flake into a mad primal rage. It was as if every frustration in Flake's animal brain had come to life and destroyed everything just to mock him once again. All this horror, all this bloodshed and sadness, just for this monster to treat him as some worthless child to pity.

Flake screamed a guttural roar of wrath like he had never screamed before as he thrust the spear forward with every ounce of strength his tiny body could muster and more. The black stone spear sank deep into the man's stomach catching him completely off guard. Before the man could raise his handful of lightning, Flake tore the spear from his stomach and ran. All the man could do was drop Sun Hunter’s body to the ground as he held his stomach wound, attempting to keep his own entrails from spilling out the wound as he screamed in pain. Fear had finally overtaken Flake's mind as he ran away from the camp and the strange man as fast as he could. His human mind wanted to go back, to sink that spear into that man's heart for what he did to Sun Hunter and no doubt Loving Water as well. Yet already mentally and physically exhausted Flake's animal mind once again took over and sent him running up the hill once again.

For Flake did not know the unseen world he had just been dragged into, for the smell of mammoth meat and the copious smoke from the pits had drawn the attention of something far more ancient than species that made up the now dead tribe, or even Flake's species as well. This was a horror Flake's primitive mind as it was now, had no hopes of understanding nor overcoming in the slightest. This was a horror that had dwelled in these hills far before any of these past events were even possible, and it intended to endure far longer still.