The Mak Toras Chronicles

Chapter 22 - Rile

The jungle canopy swayed with the light bending to its will upon the ground. It never ceased at all during the ambush of not one but several spiked, canine-like creatures, from which their corpses gleamed in the natural spotlight. Blood became the incarnation of a red river across the green flora and dirt swept beneath him. It was only then he regained himself to attention. Phasing in and out of reality, Tanner's mind was caught in turmoil. Life or death loomed at every deadly encounter incited upon him. Looking back into his memories, he was nearly hunted down and killed, nearly ripped to shreds to the now non-existent Grimm, and given an "honor," so they called, to be taken away to a hostile world waiting to spill his guts all over jungle. It was almost as if there was no escape from death; he would wind back up on that doorstep. Even if it was not his own life on the line, something was bound to die. Thankfully, Tanner sighed, he was given another chance to live another few hours at least.
With the worst out of the way, there lie another problem. Of the whole time spent in the danger zone, he had not taken a single trophy that was mentioned by the instructor of the so-called initiations. The entirety of his attention and listening was spent going with the flow rather than question the unknown like he had always been. Adapting to this new environment was harsh enough, but the distant memory of seeing Remnant fade away amongst the stars as he fell into a daze still indifferent of its passing left him amazed and startled at his own consciousness and well-being. He had grown to like and stay close to home—now there is no home. No protection from his fellow humans came until it was too late. None would come now. Only these hunters that threw him into a meat grinder were his only salvation, and even they were only offering so little. Still, he held on to the sight of the who saved him, preferring life than death any day. Though, his name was too much of a mouthful to recall by memory.
    No matter the cost, it was his job to bring back the aforementioned trophies of the slain to him and the instructor. Yet the morbidity of it all permeated to their collection: taking their heads. Tanner had previously thought the idea of claiming pieces of a kill to be a trophy was nothing more than of the ancient times of humanity's taste for killing and way of intimidating their enemies; an act of barbarism on their part. That concept, now being reintroduced, brushed him in a way that made his blood shiver. Nevertheless, it was his duty now. No point in trying to deny the request. Who knew what reprimands await were he to back down. More than that, his mentor could be still watching. Though he never truly felt his presence, Tanner had that eerie feeling of being watched as if the beasts out to hunt him were not enough. To that reality, he was not sure how to behave—other than the killing and defense from other creatures. It was not like impressing his brothers at a fancy gathering at all. He had become so accustomed to gain approval of his attire at the time and simply building courage to speak for himself to visitors; here in the jungle, it was nothing but culture shock coming at him like a freight train. Surely he was bound to be splattered and ravaged into decadence.
He kept his vigilance in the dead silence of the jungle's encore. Everything around him felt like it was ready to lash out as he knelt by the corpse, looking anxiously at the curved blade he was given. The reflection shone back as clear as the suns above through the canopy; yet the reflection of himself he once came to admire turned to ash. All there was left to gleam at was a killer. The raw feeling ate away his insides the longer he hesitated by the carcass until he plunged the blade into its neck and started to carve out the spine within a sudden instant to eliminate the distraction. Slightly disgusted at first, Tanner eased into the tearing of flesh and veins as the blood got on his hands. Metal and fluids combined and journeyed together deeper throughout the beast's neck until it was severed completely with a loud tear. The head itself was a morbid spectacle even without getting dangerously close to the living counterpart. Knowing it can no longer lash at him, he continued to examine the lifeless head, growing more content with himself. What was once deemed disgusted seemed to slip away in his mind and instead welcome this feeling with open arms—other than the comfort of how easy it was. A smile unknowingly escaped his face as the dead eyes of the creature stared back at him. His lips grinned even more as his gaze turned to the other corpses. No matter how much he wanted to turn away, his morbid curiosity took him by the throat and lead the way to the next corpse, beginnging the same cycle of cutting and tearing.
It was as easy as breathing.