Mmmm, meat. Rich, bloody meat. My riches can wait; first I need food. Drops of saliva drip from my jowls. I cannot remember when I last had a juicy hind quarter of beef or a succulent lamb. Bones and all. They are so young and tender; new born spring lambs. It seems I have awoken just in time after all.
I am suddenly thirsty. More so than hungry. The thoughts of those juicy bits of meat and the rich blood coating my throat is too much. I have to move. I have to find food. I have to quench my thirst and feed my raging lust for meat.
Then, and only then, will I come back to my precious treasure, my hoarded riches, and count it all again.
What is that smell? Food? No, human, definitely not food. They are chewy and their bones are too brittle. Besides, their meat and blood reek of the horrible vegetation they eat.
Disgusting!
How can you eat roots and fruits and plants?
Meat! That makes you strong. It fills you and nourishes you and prevents those bones from becoming brittle and
The noise, again! Someone is in my lair. Someone is amongst my precious riches!
Without thought, inextinguishable fire erupts from deep in my hungry belly, blazing through my throat and scorching the wall opposite me. It is the land of fire, fuelled by anger, jealousy or an inherent need to protect what is mine.
My flames have incinerated many a village and crop and herds of cattle. The smell of burnt meat always stopped me, reminded me that in my anger, I wasted good food.
My combustible anger always won – like now.
As the smoke settle, I notice the melted gold and silver. What a pity. Those trinkets were forged by skilled craftsmen and now my anger has reduced their art to bubbling liquid.
Movement catches my eye. I am so easily distracted these days. One would think I was still a youngster of 60, not a mature, dominant leader of 269!
It scurries again. I cannot allow it to steal what belongs to me.
