Meat
Gerod brings the deer over and drops it and your feet, a glimmer of pride glistening in his eyes as he looks as you expectantly. You look at him and then the deer, a bit confused at this point.
“You said you were going to get some food for us.” You say to the griffon, as if he had forgotten why he had left you alone to face the fearful night alone. He tilts his head to the side, befuddled.
“This IS the food.” He insists, nudging the dead deer with his paw. “Best dig in before it starts to get cold, you have no idea how hard it was to catch this thing; even for a deer it was particularly skittish. I had to tiptoe for ages to get close enough to the thing to pounce, and THEN the wind changed direction and it caught my scent! Man, luckily I was close enough to catch it before it bounded away, otherwise I’d have been furious.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he recounts the tale of how he had come across what he considered dinner.
“Umm...I can’t eat this, Gerod.” You tell the griffon hesitantly. “Can you start a fire so we can cook it a bit?” I ask hopefully. The blood streaming down the deer’s punctured neck sends my stomach into an upheaval that I choke back.
“ ‘Cook’ it?” Gerod asks, his face telling me he was unsure of what that meant. “Just bite it and tear some meat out.” He bends over, sinks sharp fangs into the deer’s neck, and as you watch in abhorrent fascination, he rips some flesh right off the body, chomping down into the bloody flesh with great delight.
“Oh my god EW!” You squeal, stomping your feet and backing up just a bit, away from the carcass on the ground. The griffon swallows his little morsel and gives you a queer look, trying to piece together what’s wrong with you.
“So...you humans never eat raw meat?” Gerod questions, looking inquisitive.
“Never, it can make us sick.” You answer. “We always cook our meat before eating it, and never EVER eat the fur.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it.” Gerod insists with a nonchalant shrug. “I do not know how to start a fire, nor do I think we are capable. So unless you can start a fire and cook this meat, you’ll have to eat it raw.”
You look at the meat, your stomach growling ferociously. You weigh the thoughts in your head; you’re not human, maybe you can eat raw meat. Gerod manages just fine. You step forward, smelling the deer quite clearly from where you sat. Making up your mind, you close your eyes and plunge into the meat, rendering the still-warm flesh with your newly developed fangs. As you chew and swallow, you think to yourself that the meat isn’t too bad.
And you take another bite.
Written by Czar Lawrence III on 11 April 2013
