The adrenaline surge, first of the rebellion towards his pack, and later from the terror of finding himself alone in the desolate wasteland, had kept Jazovac alert for the better part of a day and a half. The second day was drawing to a close now, however, and each step he took felt like dragging his paws through tar; his eyelids were heavy, and his stomach growled louder than he'd ever quite remembered it growling in his life....not that it had been long enough, so far, to create too many memories.
It had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. Give his mother the slip, push his way out into total self-reliance, where he was his own authority. He'd seen other males do it--albeit, older males, but when had he ever put much stock into age?--and it hadn't seemed so hard then. What he hadn't seen was that terrible gnawing of hunger, the way his stomach felt like it had inverted in on itself, the way his thoughts swam about unbidden and uncontrollable. He felt his eyelids begin to droop, and he wanted so very badly to go lie down, if just for a little while.
But something kept him awake. Maybe it was the pressing feeling of guilt, that terrible knowledge that he'd done something this stupid--or maybe it was that cold shame that welled up inside of him, filling the spaces laid empty by his growling stomach and spreading a bitter emptiness in him; shame, because he had been proven wrong, because he was such an idiot. Shame, because he was alone out in the empty world, and he was terrified.
His eyes swept the horizon for the hundredth time. The vultures were growing larger in his vision, circling and swooping in droves; whatever their quarry, he was growing closer to it by the moment. Jazovac felt a thrill of exhiliration mingle with his fear, guilt, and shame; the old adrenaline pumped weakly back through his veins, recycled and muted through time but still enough to push him forward, to lift each weary limb one at a time and trudge forward. In his mind, he was already beginning to fantasize wildly about what he would find at the end of this bleak rainbow; perhaps it would be his old pack, and he would be able to slip in beside his mother--and perhaps she would be so happy to see him that she'd forget to punish him for his insolence. That wouldn't be so bad.
But it would be terribly degrading, he thought; he hadn't struck out on his own like a big grown-up just to come crawling back to his mommy! He was strong. He was smart and resourceful, and he would prove it to everybody...well, would prove it to them, if they were anywhere nearby. Just now, the only person he had to prove anything to was himself.
Maybe it would be another pack, he thought, with further creeping excitement; his paws sunk slightly into the dusty earth with each step, but he forced himself to trudge on more quickly. His large ears swivelled and pinned back. Yes, that would be perfect; another pack, he could come in, and impress them, and show them how very important he was, how very worthy he was. He was brave! Look at him, poor little hapless wanderer, surviving by himself for two whole days! Surely they'd take him in, and then he wouldn't have to face the humiliation of crawling back to his own pack after he'd tried so hard for his independence.
He was trotting now, his heart thudding a mixture of excitement and physical activity, threatening to swell up and take over his whole body. He could feel it at the back of his throat, pounding, and thought he tasted fear. What was there to fear? Nothing, nothing....except that maybe the new pack wouldn't like him after all, and maybe they'd hurt him....maybe they'd kill him....
Every quivering sense was suddenly directed to a lumpy figure lying in the shadows before him. His brow furrowed, ears pinned forward as far as they could go, wrinkling his brow between them. Jazovac's nose twitched; what was it? It was large, but shaped funny, not right for prey, yet....so strangely familiar....He dropped into a crouch, glanced around himself. No one seemed nearby. Even the vultures above were reluctant to drop down and feast. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up, filling out his thick hackles in spikey clumps, and he crept upon the bloated carcass.
Jazovac let out an alarmed yip and stumbled backwards, eyes wide, his heart now threatening to choke him in his throat. The shape...the corpse....all bloated and mangy, half-buried in the sand....it was hyena.
Fighting competing desires to run away and to investigate, Jazovac circled back around the body and looked at it, terrified but mesmerized. It was the first time he'd ever seen a dead hyena; somehow, it was different from any other dead animal he'd ever seen--but also strangely similar. It was like, now it was dead....and it wasn't a hyena; it was like it had emptied out and left a hyena-shaped mound of meat in the wasteland with no meaning. He flopped to his haunches, looking down at its face--unfamiliar yet so very similar to every face he had ever known growing up--and tilted his head.
Well, this was a problem. Now that the excitement had faded and fear was battling with morbid curiosity, the adrenaline was receding once again and it seemed unlikely to be coming back. Now that he was left alone with his hunger, Jazovac was suddenly reminded of just how weak he felt; his legs were shaking, and his head was swimming. He was hungry--so very hungry--and there was nothing for miles; this had been his last hope...and what a terrible hope it was.
Still...he couldn't help but think....
He stood, his legs threatening to give out on him, and glanced over his shoulder. Nothing. He turned, slowly, making a reluctant circle and examining every inch of sky and savannah. Nothing. There was no one here but himself, the vultures, and the body.
Shaking now with something different from hunger, he took a tentative step toward the body. It didn't move, didn't look at him. He took courage from this, and then another step. Still, nothing.
No one would know.
No one would ever know.
He swalloed, hard, and took another step forward.
You couldn't get in trouble for something if they didn't know you did it.
You're all alone, and you're starving. You have to do something about it. No one will blame you. No one will find out.
It's just meat....
He was standing inches away from the body now, and its scent filled his nostrils. It smelled strangely warm, although it looked to have been dead for a number of hours at least. He wondered vaguely what had killed it, but wondered moreover what would happen if he just....just....
You're on your own now.
You left the pack to be your own boss.
You're big, and brave, and nobody can do anything to you.
He bent over it, took in a deep breath, and bared his teeth. His ears pinning back, he fought back the thoughts in his mind, forced everything into a quiet buzz, and focused only on the meat, on the promise of a meal.
Nobody will ever have to know....
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