\|/ Turn 15, early light
Some things are better left alone.
When I finally went to rest after killing the living shadow, it was too cold. I started entering the feverish state before temperature shock. I thought I could weather the dark again, but this time, it was too much. I was hiding in the hole, huddling as tight as I could be.
At one point I didn't even feel cold. I felt perfect warmth wash over me.
I knew that meant I was dying.
Then, I did something unfathomable. I went to the body that was still fresh that I had placed somewhat near me. The black blood of the living shadow still present, dripping from its wounds.
And I went under its wing.
I… I still can't describe how desperate I was for warmth. If I hadn't done that, I would've frozen to death, plain and simple. The temperature was already dropping, and now it was even lower than before, some kind of cold wind having hit the area. The air taste from the shadow's blood was fresh.
I can't describe the feeling of being under the living shadow's wing. It was so warm. The blood that I felt dripping onto me was hot. The living shadow used to have its own temperature.
Like Mik.
…
I really am a monster, aren't I?
That's all I could think while hiding underneath the shadow for warmth.
The whole reason I went hunting was to help Mik. To not be a burden, to contribute.
And then I got so blind sighted by rage and revenge that I almost completely forgot about Mik.
I killed.
I killed an animal, and not in a quick and painless fashion.
For what?
For hunting me? For terrorizing me?
For being an animal? A persistence hunter?
I wanted it to suffer when it died. I could've finished it all quicker.
But I didn't.
I led it through being stabbed, electrocuted, ensnared and chased. I relished when it tasted like fear.
And during all of that, I forgot about the only thing that cares about me on this planet.
I couldn't sleep that night, haunted by my own thoughts, tasting the living shadows blood in the air and feeling its warmth.
What if it had cubs? What if they die now from the cold because their parent is missing?
What kind of person have I turned into?
I was beyond disgust at that point; I was just disappointed in myself.
I spent the rest of the night like that, saved by my own victim's corpse from the freezing cold. SILT did not speak to me, though I felt it there.
It's morning now, and I had to wait a bit longer before getting out from underneath the body to not get temperature shock again.
Now that I came out, I see what I was dealing with. I wish I hadn't.
The living shadow is similar to the Screechers. It has those growths from along its entire body, giving it a black cloak. It has four muscular legs, quadrupedal. Nothing I haven't seen yet.
The problem is the head. The eye.
The eyes.
The head has that long, sharp chitin snout. It is slightly open from the dead animal, and inside I see teeth meant for tearing flesh. A wisp of its breath still curled into the air, too faint to taste.
But the eyes.
Its "eye" isn't just one eye, but hundreds.
Along its entire head are tiny black pupils, some open, some closed, staring blankly. What looked like the slitted portion of the eye is hundreds of different colored pupils that follow a line.
I gripped my head while staring into the eyes. They etched themselves into my memory. I wished that all of them were closed.
But they weren't. They kept staring.
…
I should feel satisfaction, triumph, victory, at least bloodthirst.
But…
I just feel hollow.
I feel like a part of me, some innocence in life, has left, and It won't be coming back.
I feel like I won't be able to look at anyone I know; Vera, Needle, mom or dad, or even Mik again.
Because when I look into their eyes, I will see hundreds of lifeless eyes staring back at me.
…
I covered its eyes with some leaves and a vine. I can't look at it anymore. It makes me want to stop trying.
But I need to find Mik.
Even if every personal reason for me to continue has stopped existing, I need to continue existing for Mik.
It helped me so damn much, and I was so damn willing to throw my life away for pitiful revenge.
I'll search for Mik again.
I'll bring the corpse. Even if it isn't useful, Mik needs to understand what I've done.
Suns forgive me.
\|/ Turn 15, late dark
I managed to find home.
After my last entry I continued searching to no avail. I left the corpse in the hole so it wouldn't get eaten by other animals while I searched. I couldn't, for the life of me, find a path back to Mik.
I had almost completely given up, having sat down near the lake to think, when I saw the smoke.
It wasn't a wildfire or some impressive plume, but a wisp of smoke, visible in the daylight.
It was a signal. Mik's signal.
I finally had a direction. Things would be better if I found Mik. I would be better. I wouldn't be a monster. Not around Mik. Never around Mik.
I went to the hole and just stared at it for a few moments. The body lay there, and I stared.
The wisp of breath was gone. It wasn't bleeding anymore; the blood had all drained. There was so much of it on me and my cloak, infecting me with a darkness that consumed mercy. Making me taste like the shadow.
But even worse was that, through the blindfold I had improvised, I could feel it staring back..
I took it by a wing and started dragging it again. It was lighter now, without blood, but it felt heavier.
I head towards the direction of the smoke signal. It felt like a death march.
As I was walking, I slowly started recognizing landmarks from before the tracks. A misshapen tree here, an oddly arranged rock pile there.
It took the entire light to get to Mik.
…
I'm still not sure whether it was happy to see me.
…
I saw light from a fire and finally got closer. I could barely taste Mik's air taste. The freezing cold was already biting at my thornends again.
Mik was there at the fire, adding more branches, still with a broken arm. It was pacing. Genuinely pacing around, seemingly annoyed or unnerved, talking with itself.
I stepped into the light, making a hiss to tell Mik I'm here.
It snapped around, picking up its hatchet from its side, when it saw me. Its eyes widened to an extent I still can't comprehend, and it dropped its hatchet and ran to me.
Before it saw me fully, it ran to me and… enveloped me.
It took its right arm and wrapped it around my back, thankfully protected by the half-torn cloak so Mik's arm wouldn't get spiked.
Mik was so warm. Warmer than the decaying body.
I didn't mind the contact anymore. I couldn't. Not after sleeping under a corpse of my own making.
Mik let go of me and then properly looked at me. It then stumbled backwards.
It finally saw for what I actually was.
It saw me with my spear that is covered in black blood. My torn cloak that was still draining from it. My torn left arm with a combination of my own green blood and the shadow's black blood.
I couldn't talk to it. I couldn't find my voice. Even if it understood me, I couldn't say anything.
I lowered my head and took a few steps back, returning with the corpse into the light.
Mik, still on the ground, then saw my confession.
The shadow, the horror that had haunted me, with burn marks and multiple spear holes, dead and bled out. Its pose conveyed misery.
Mik slowly, painfully slowly, got up and looked at the corpse. It went to remove the blindfold.
I grabbed Mik's arm and stared into its eyes.
I could see hundreds of eyes in Mik's gaze.
Mik shouldn't have to.
It understood the message and slowly retracted its arm, taking its notebook into its arm.
It sketched an eye, slitted, large, and tapped it.
I tapped it as well.
Mik crouched to my level and bared its teeth.
But it wasn't like any time before. I can't describe it, but it wasn't the same.
It wasn't Mik's version of joy or conformation.
It was fake. Forced.
That baring made me want to leave and never come back.
Mik then realized my injury on my left arm. It quickly stored its notebook and tapped my left hand and looked at the injury, deeply worried.
I took my hand back. I couldn't explain I had done it to myself for the purpose of getting revenge.
Mik, the fool, then started taking off its bandages used for immobilizing its broken arm to give to me.
"NO!" I hissed loudly at Mik, startling it.
"no…" I repeated myself.
Mik saw what I had done, and all it wanted to do was help again, even at its own expense.
I went closer to the fire and took off my cloak, no longer at risk of freezing. Then, I traced my fingers along my lower back, to the bandaged thorn. I took off the bandages, the tear having healed.
I then traced my fingers along the lower ones, the missing ones. I felt the scales there, deeply disfigured, uneven, wrong. Bumps where there shouldn't be, lines marking where the thorns used to be.
I put my cloak back on and took the bandages. I rubbed my hands across them to get as much antimicrobial fluid as I could on them, but that would barely help with this large of a wound. I then bandaged my left arm. It was extremely painful. It still stings.
I just stared into the fire. I couldn't look back at Mik or the corpse. I thought I would be happy to see Mik, but all I felt was more dread. The blood felt heavy on me and my cloak.
For reasons I can't fathom, Mik sat down next to me, also looking into the fire. We sat there for a bit.
…
It breathed deeper once and said something, leaving into the tent for a moment before returning with a parachute bit from earlier. It had managed to make a type of bowl with the parachute bit, some leaves and a few branches as support, and inside was water. It offered me the bowl.
I stared at it for a few moments before taking it. I used the water inside to clean off the blood as best as I could, absorbing some of the water in the process. The air taste didn't leave.
"thank you" I muttered. Mik took the empty bowl and sat down again.
…
We sat like that for a bit before Mik took my tail and put its hand at the end of it.
I couldn't do anything other than cry. It wasn't Mik's wet cry, but Mik understood and enveloped me again. I needed it.
After a few more moments like this I managed to calm down slightly.
Mik led me into the tent, holding its arm on my shoulder, careful of the thorn protruding from the tear in the cloak.
It lit the campfire inside the tent and went back outside. I heard dragging sounds and the sound of some leaves.
Mik then came back inside and looked at me one more time. It didn't bare its teeth, just looked at me. It then said something and lied down, facing upwards, occasionally glancing at me.
As I am writing this neither of us are asleep. Mik took its notebook, wrote something extremely short, and then went back to looking at the celling.
The worst thing is that it doesn't know what I did.
For Mik, I left and hunted and came back with a kill, injured but alive. Nothing more.
It doesn't know about the vengeance.
It doesn't know about the torture.
It doesn't know that I am the monster, not the shadow that was trying to survive.