Surviving the piranha, I felt a bit emboldened, I must admit, but the need for more meat was growing steadily, and just surviving wasn’t enough for me. As the days grew a bit easier, and seemingly longer, my thoughts drifted more towards Esther. At times it was worry, always did I miss her presence, other times, I lusted for her, but most often, I wondered what her presence would do to me. Surviving was worrisome enough, having to protect someone else would be far overbearing I thought.
None-the-less, it was time to go on the hunt again. Another odd chicken would have been fine. I realized far too late that the seagull that had attacked the first day was far to decomposed for me to salvage any of the meat, and there was no way I was going to threaten the Trike.
This time, I would venture East up the bank, along the steep ridge where I could see swamps in the distance, Lyssa at my side. The ridge was much steeper than I had anticipated, and after about 10 feet along the steep bank, Lyssa resolved to simply swim rather than struggle along the bank and keep slipping sideways into the water.
I want fish.
I hoped that the extremely bright colors that some of the larger fish in the water gave off, were not a sign that they contained poison. Looking down into the water as I moved along, I had yet to see some fish along this bank. I wondered if maybe I should double back to the U-shaped retention of water I had worked my way around before, but the swampy bank was closer to me than the camp’s shores.
I stepped onto the squishy earth bordering the swampy waters and my foot sank a bit. I moved quickly to the bit of vegetation on the piece of land and turned to the water.
Lyssa’s seemingly happy face was doggy-paddling along in the water straight to me, her beak peering up, bobbing slightly as her little pudgy feet kicked. I smiled only for a moment as my happiness and safety was wrenched from me. Far too late for me to cry out, (not that it mattered if I would have, Lyssa wouldn’t understand me nor have the time to react) the largest alligator I could have imagined, rose steadily out of the water behind Lyssa and chomped into her.
Apparently, Lyssa had a rather tough hide, though it didn’t matter. I thought the large jaws of the gator would have sliced through her, leaving a most gruesome scene of guts flying everywhere, but instead, she was crushed, only her head and front foot sticking out in the first chomp, and the next took her in whole, devoured. And I heard only the faintest of squeals, almost pig-like as it died.
The gator was still momentarily distracted. I ran, flight kicked in hard and I seemed to be weightless as dashed across the moist ground. I even slipped once in the spongy ground on my way to the top bank, and I immediately regained my balance and only barely looked behind me, the gator still by the bank, but not pursuing. It mattered not, I was on my way up and on my way back to camp, tears streaming down my face.
I kept a bee-line along the top of the ridge just 20 feet above where I had just worked my way with Lyssa at my side. Along the way back, I did not stop to greet anyone, but I learned that I was very much not alone and that there were possibly dozens of species of the Island, ranging in various sizes and shapes; gigantic snakes, small quick dinosaurs only ankle high, and what I remember from my childhood as a Brontosaurus. Only time and further exploration would tell whether they would be hostile or passive, but now my mind was flooded with both grief at my renewed isolation, and anger… I wanted to avenge Lyssa.
Explorer's Wrotes 