When Given a Lemon

Part 13

Still thinking about all this I almost end up right back in the shredded remains when I trip over the spike holding the impaled carcass of the beast that had landed on me. The arrow went through its eye, just like the first one back at camp. I'm amazed it didn't nick me when we impacted.

Ugh, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can make believe I never had to be subjected to such grotesqueries!

The other soldier takes a few moments to wrap my shoulder where the claws had bit through the skin. The whole area stings but the cold helps to numb the pain. Then I get to work in case the lieutenant decides to return. The soldier then patches up Merryl's arm and his own before they join me.

Getting started was tough.

I'm not trained in this so I'm not sure where or how to handle any of it; what to keep or discard. The three of us stepped forward, all hunched over to gather things I'd rather not think about. A short way into it, my back aches from leaning over like this but we're not even a fraction of the way done yet. Lemon squats comfortably to the side, pretending they were being helpful by holding open the bag for us while we did all the dirty work.

“I wanna know how they expect us to tell which parts are human against which ones aren't.” I grumbled. It's all mixed up together with mud, muck, and roots and the red blood disguises everything to look the same. I've already tried pulling out a few roots thinking they might be a tendon or a bone – more because I'm not actually too familiar with what innards are even supposed to look like, other than being pink, bloody, and slimy. Merryl, for the eighteenth time has had to step away to upchuck their feelings all over the poor helpless bushes while Lemon smiles widely at me without a concern in the world.

“You should be helping me scoop this up while Merryl holds the bag!” but Lemon shook their head. Apparently torturing Merryl was more fun.

“Bleaugh–!”

“See? Merryl agrees with me.” 

“I just–” he spits in the snow to clear the rest of the sickness from his mouth, “I wish we at least had gloves to wear! This is just repulsive.” Ah, yes. Gloves would be nice.

It's true. I'm going to have a hard time picking the yuck out of my nails when we get back. Though I don't appreciate Merryl pointing another gross facet of this task out to me. It's easier to block out if it's not acknowledged. I'm already struggling to hold my own bile down as it is!

The other soldier stands a little ways from us, retrieving everything he can, quickly filling his own bag. He works with quiet efficiency as if he is simply cleaning up a small spill a child might have made when eating dinner. Spilled porridge rather than a dismembered body. I struggle to understand how he can be so emotionless toward the job. This was a human for fuck's sake! He at least should have a grimace on his face like we do!

… I glance back at Lemon, seeing they still have that same ugly grin. It makes me quickly amend my thought to not include them. Not that I'm in any way surprised, after all our time spent together my expectations have become a bit skewed when it comes to anything they say or do. But everyone else, the soldier included, really should have a disgusted look on their face.

When it was finally determined we got all that could be gathered, I spent the next several minutes scrubbing myself clean in the snow along with the others. It's not as good as soap and water, but getting some of the red slime off, and adding the feeling of numbness from the cold really helped.

“Why’re you washing your hands? You didn't even touch anything!”

Merryl looks up and quirks a brow.