We had begun our trek, but this was not the forest; only flat and open land, which Mitt was leading us through. Throughout the time, he was going on about how he and the others had taken down a mammoth.
After what felt like an endless hour of a Long and weary walk, I would say, yet I happened to see Ryan and Tusk far away. And indeed: a gigantic mammoth lying on the earth.
There was no way we could carry it, even with all of us. So Tusk and Mitt started lashing the beast with jute ropes, and—of course—we had to pull it. Fuck. Were we really supposed to drag this thing all the way back to the tribe? Fuck this shit.
I was just thinking of an excuse to fool them into pulling the Mammoth by themselves, leaving me alone. When the ground vibrated—a low, thumping sound that wasn't wind or the sound of a human being, but something faster.
Then the thumping exploded into a storm of hooves.
