Jini's eyes snapped wide as Harold described the moss-furred rodents.
Her tentacles tightened against the bedding, curling with unease.
"You killed one of those?" she hissed, the words sharp enough to cut.
Harold froze, caught off guard by the sudden intensity.
"Uh… yeah. With a stone. Just to see if I could. Why?"
His comment while untruthful, was only used to cover up that he'd injured the beast simply to experiment his healing.
Her lips pulled back, exposing sharp teeth—not in threat this time, but in something closer to disbelief.
Maybe even fear.
"You ate it?"
"Well... no." Harold said quickly, holding his palms up. "I failed to start a fire, so i couldnt cook it."
She exhaled through her nose, slow and harsh.
"Fool."
"Excuse me?" Harold bristled, but the look she gave him silenced any thought of defiance.
"That creature," Jini said, voice low and taut, "is a Death Fang. Its blood and flesh carry poison. Even the scavengers won't touch it unless they are desperate, and most who try… do not live to regret it. It is the last thing anyone would ever think to eat."
Harold felt a cold shiver run up his arms.
His stomach clenched at the thought of how close he'd come to handling it more directly.
"So… rat's off the menu."
"Rat?" Jini echoed, testing the word.
She let out a noise halfway between a snarl and a laugh. "You give weak names to dangerous things."
"Yeah, well, back where I come from, rats are pests. Filthy, sure, but not instant death if you brush against one."
Harold rubbed the back of his neck.
"Good thing I didn't try to roast it, huh?"
Jini's gaze hardened. "You would already be dead if you had."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Harold swallowed it down and shifted gears.
"Alright then. What about the other one? The… big one. About yea high, long nose, sort of looked like a capybara—"
Jini tilted her head.
"Capy…?"
"Never mind. Doesn't matter."
He made a rough gesture with his hands, sketching the shape.
"That one. Big, bulky. Watched me from the brush. Sloping head, stocky thing took quite a few hits to take down."
Recognition flashed in her eyes.
Her tentacles flexed once, then settled.
"Ah. Rellak."
"Rellak?" Harold repeated.
She nodded slowly.
"Common prey. Meat keeps well if dried. The hunters cut it into strips, smoke it over flame. Strong, not soft, but filling."
Harold's lips tugged upward despite himself. "So, like rabbit."
Jini blinked.
"What is… rabbit?"
He chuckled, shaking his head.
"Never mind. Just something we eat back home from time to time. Small, quick, but good eating if you can catch one. What you're describing sounds close enough."
Her gaze narrowed.
"You say this as though you know the hunt. But your arm failed against even a Death Fang."
The sting in her words was sharp, but Harold forced a smile.
"Fair point. Where i'm from we don't hunt by throwing stones... i only use them cause i lost everything when i came to this land, and i was more shocked that i managed to take either of them down at all if im honest."
Jini studied him in silence.
Then, finally, she said,
"If you bring down a Rellak, it will keep us both alive. Its hide makes strong leather. Its bones—tools. Its fat, fuel for fire."
Harold's stomach growled loudly, betraying his body before his mind could even agree.
He let out a sheepish laugh.
"Well, guess that settles it. My gut's voting yes. Rellak it is."
Her eyes glittered faintly, something almost like amusement cutting through the predator's cold.
"You would risk much for a meal."
"I've risked more for less," Harold muttered, thinking of long nights at the hospital, meals skipped, health ignored, all for paychecks that barely kept him alive.
He shook off the thought and rose to his feet.
"I'll try again," he said. "Bring one back, see if I can't manage to club dinner instead of just scaring it off this time."
Jini tilted her head back against the stone, watching him like a hawk might watch a limping hare.
"If you succeed, you will prove yourself more than a cleaner of wounds."
Harold smirked faintly.
"That a compliment?"
Her silence was answer enough.
"Alright, healer," he muttered under his breath as he stepped toward the cave mouth again. "Let's see if you can be a hunter too."
The forest greeted him once more, its air thick and humid.
He walked slower this time, scanning the underbrush for movement.
Every sound made his ears twitch—the buzz of insects, the scrape of claws against bark, the whisper of leaves shifting against one another.
He palmed another stone, feeling the rough weight of it.
This time, he wouldn't waste the throw.
Harold crouched low hiding himself in some tall grass, he wasnt to far away from the cave, and right around the area he'd successfully hunter the two patients previously.
Then he saw it—broad, low to the ground, ears flicking as it nosed around the open space, like an anteater looking for... well ants.
A Rellak.
His stomach growled again, and he bit back a curse.
The last thing he needed was to spook it with his own body's complaints.
"Steady now," he whispered to himself.
He drew back, stone in hand, and took aim.
fwip.
The stone ripped through the air, heading towards the beast.
Crack.
A hit, a fine hit!
The stone landed on the brow of the beasts head staggering it.
Not waiting Harold took out another stone, into his throwing hand while another went to his offhand.
Cocking back his arm again.
fwip.
Crack.
The second stone was loosed and flew true again, striking the beasts hind leg.
Fwip
Fwip
Fwip
stone after stone was loosed, to the point he had to quickly grab up new stones from the ground around him.
after over a dozen finally the beast collapsed.
Tentatively creeping forwards he reached out to touch it.
'No pulse.'
Looks like meats back on the menu boys!