The Dust of History (历史的尘埃）
Preface - Hunting (1)
With the blade cutting through the neck, the small body in Asa’s hand jerked and twitched, causing a disproportionate tremor. It seemed that all the life contained in it was squeezed out. As the warm and odorous blood dripped into the mouth, the vibration between the fingers gradually deteriorated and finally dissipated. Asa tried to squeeze the mountain rat really hard, and did not care that the remains in its stomach were also squeezed out. Until the last drop of body fluid slowly dripped, Asa dropped the shredded mountain rat and licked the remaining blood on his lips.
I don't want to die.
A bloody odor transpires from the stomach. Asa’s throat makes a low-pitched scream. The voice is dull, long and deep. It does not like it is from an organ, but from a crack in the soul.
He remembered that voice. When he was three years old, he hid in a tree and saw several hunters in the village rounding up a wounded wolf. He was trembled by the screams of the wolf, not fear, but felt that a deepest string in his soul resonated with it. Since then, he has been obsessed with learning the language of animals for a while.
He now understands that the voice is meaningless, but the roar of life before the threat of death. It is a release of a strong desire for survival and a crazy animal nature in the heart.
It’s been three days of eating raw animals and drinking their blood under extreme pressure. Asa is close to the limit of his physical strength. The death threat behind him and his strong desire for survival, made him almost a wild beast. But fortunately, rationality is still leading all actions.
Asa is well aware of the gap in his ability with the hunter. He remembered very clearly how the heads of the two infantries were crushed like watermelons in a blink of an eye. The only thing that he can rely on is that he knew the intention of the hunter.
The hunter is not hunting him with full power. Apparently, he does not want to catch up with him too early, and then risk fighting a desperate beast. This is hunting, which means chasing the prey and letting him fade away in fear and death, and then come over kill him like killing a mouse, and cut off his head. Whether it is physical condition or skill to survive in this swamp jungle, he is unlikely to get rid of the hunter. Both of them know this clearly.
In the past three days, Asa pretended to be the way the hunters wanted to see the escape. His physical energy also drops as quickly as a real escape. Without fire, you won't have enough food. The raw meat of any animal in the Lizard Swamp is lethal as the parasite inside is fatal to humans. Instead, you can eat some non-toxic insects. Although animal's fresh blood is safe, it can only be slightly helpful and is not enough to compensate the loss of sweat and physical strength. The lack of salt and food has almost reached the limit of tolerance. He must end the true illusion of the three days with an action that cannot be mistaken.
Luckily, Asa quickly found three non-toxic worms from the surrounding grass and shrubs. They are finger-sized and are full of vitality in the hands. Asa pinched their heads with his fingers, slowly moved down and squeezed out the green feces. On one hand you cannot squeeze too hard. Otherwise the body will be broken and the nutritious juice will splash out. On the other hand, you must discharge the poisonous feces as much as possible. This is an extremely sophisticated craft. After a few days of practice, Asa is already very skilled at this.
The tender flesh quickly becomes a thick paste between the teeth, and the greasy bitterness is like a swollen air sticking to the skin as it hangs on the taste buds. Asa carefully grinds the meat with his teeth, searching for the larger pieces of meat with his tongue, ensuring that all the insects can be turned into the smallest possible unit for easy digestion. Every drop of nutrition is precious. it is the hope of living.
Dig a pit about one foot on the ground with his knife, Asa buried the body of the mountain rat. Every time he kills an animal in these three days, he always buries their bodies.
Put the knife on his back, Asa checks himself carefully, steps on the mound that has just buried the mountain rat, and then slowly squats, lies down on his stomach, like a large amoeba, slowly moves to the sewage next to him.
He focused all his attention on this ugly movement, carefully controlling every muscle in his body, letting the body stick as far as possible on the ground, leaving no visible marks on the soft mud. Any loss of control and inconsistency will make the three-day disguise completely in vain.
Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, Asa slowly slips into the sewage that is as deep as his chest, without any splash. The weight of the knife is just enough to make him not float. He moves towards the direction in his memory. This sewage leads to a temporary small river formed by the rainy season. He came here purposely and selected this terrain to bury the body intentionally. Everything works as planned.
A couple of leeches sucked to Asa’s body and caused slight pains. No need to do anything. When they sucked up the blood, they would let go of their own mouth. Enforcing them out will instead let the sucker stay in the skin and cause infection. Now the most important thing is to sneak as far as possible before the next breath.
Re-examined every detail in his mind and confirmed there were no flaws, Asa starts to feel a great joy of a successful escape. The only problem now is the body of the mountain rat, which must rot to a sufficient extent before the hunter arrives, enough to emit a certain scent.
“I only need a rotten luck now.” Asa prays as he moves across the decaying mud like a lizard.
In the afternoon, the sun that was rarely seen in the lizard swamp exposed his face. The sun was cut by the branches and fell to pieces. The damp ground turns the sun's body into a layer of curtains that circulate between the leaves and the ground of the tree.
The hunter quietly watched a large group of scavenging lizards smashing the body of a mountain rat. He hates the mucus smell of these ugly scavengers, which is too strong for his sensitive sense of smell. A large lizard triumphantly grabbed the body and turned to escape. The other immediately swarmed and disappeared into the forest, leaving only a scoop of pits and traces on the ground.
As human, this prey is quite good in terms of speed, agility, and strength. The hunter is very interested and has considerable confidence to kill him in a frontal battle.
But only a fair grasp of confidence is not enough. This is not a battlefield, but hunting. It needs to have 100% certainty of triumph. Since yesterday, the prey’s footprint has begun to become weak and vain.
Now, the hunter feels that he has enough confidence.
But this is also a strange prey. Although it is indeed being chased, the footprint does not show the messiness and panic of a desperate prey. The weak pace reveals a strange firmness. It is not a simply escape, something else is hidden.
The cover-ups in these three days have been well done. But they have always made a stupid mistake - to bury the bodies of blood-stained animals. This is completely counterproductive, and the lizard will follow the rotten smell to dig up and eat the body. The hunter can almost just follow the stench of a large group of lizards.
Incomprehensible mentality and stupid mistakes, there seems to be a connection between the two. This feeling makes the hunter feel a bit strange. However, it is only limited to strangeness. After catching him up, killing, and cutting off his head, there is then no more strangeness about it. No animal can get rid of his tracking in this swamp jungle. On this regard the hunter has absolute confidence. Absolute.
But the hunter was immediately surprised to find that all the traces stopped here and did not extend in any direction.
Only the strong smell of the swamp lizard is left in the air. The hunter leaned over and scrutinized any clues on the ground. Although the lizard crawls and competes for food that makes a mess around the ground, the traces of the prey are still visible to the hunter’s superb observation and experience, and it just takes some time to find all the traces around.
Some vain but not flustered steps, did not step on their own footprints to return to the road, just a few turns in the surrounding shrubs, about to find food. The hunter can even tell that the first food the prey found was under two horns, probably a worm. The front half of the two footprints is slightly deeper, showing the center of gravity of the bending action moving forward. But apart from that, nothing was found. The footprints only came to an abrupt stop before the pit where the body was buried.
This is completely beyond the experience of the hunter’s tribe. Escape and cover-up, the hunter can only rely on his own mind to connect them, hoping to get something that is beyond existing experience. But his mind which is lacking logical thinking ability makes it difficult to accomplish this task. When he found himself stepping into a strange trap as the fugitive expected, an irresistible anger frantically occupied all the hunter’s thoughts.
A lizard shook his head and crawled back, sniffing beside the pit, expecting to find some benefits. But it immediately became the target of the angry hunter. Its huge body flew high by a violent blow, then fell into the sewage, causing a big splashing of mud. As the mud water fell ashore, a few leeches fell on the ground. The hunter noticed that. He picked up one and looked at it carefully. He pinched it and tried to taste the blood that flowed out of it. There was then a ferocious smile on the hunter’s face.
Stick to the ground, the most sensitive sense of smell on the entire continent finally distinguishes the taste that he hopes to find from the scent of the mucus from the lizard and the rot of the earth. This taste extends to the sewage.
I will take your heart out when you are still alive, tear it with my teeth when it is still pulsing, and swallow it through my throat with the freshest blood contained in it, and turn your crafty into my power.
The head can't be damaged. I will gradually dig out the brain from the eyelids, peel off the flesh, and ask the best craftsmen to grind the skull. This perfect loot can be placed on the ancestral mausoleum. As a sacrifice, this is a further testimony to the hunting skills that the tribes are proud of.
You are a good prey of mine.
A long-lost excitement floods the running hunter’s body, which is the feeling that only stirs in the body when he is chasing the most beautiful female in the tribe when he just became mature.