Garden of the Hungry

The siege

Darkness enveloped the mountain summit like a shroud. Over the top, the mist drew a melancholic crown, and not even the moon was able to cast vitality in that scene.

Sitting on the edge of the ravine, on a cut trunk and with branches attached as a backrest, an individual watched the horizon ahead of him.

"What a shitty job!" He grunted in a tired voice.

He got up from his seat and walked to a nearby fire, where he heated his grimy, callused hands. The brightness of the flames revealed an odious face, with a line of tufts over the bald head and burns that devoured his nose and part of his upper lip. In the background, a cone-shaped hut displayed huge feet of someone snoring like a wagon wheel rolling on boulders.

Restlessly, he wandered from one side of the place to the other, deliberately kicking stones and animal bones. He removed the dagger that was tied to the rawhide belt and walked to a tree, applying several strokes until his muscles were tired. "Why have you sent me to watch over this end of the world?" He grunted as he reached for his breath.

Still bored, he stared at a fish lying on the mat next to the fire and carried it to the wooden stump. He tucked the tip of the knife just above its mouth and sawed it circularly until the tooth arch of the animal was completely ripped out.

He sat down again on the improvised throne, put his penis out of his pants, and shoved it into the mouth of the fish. What came next was a frenzied up-and-down movement, mingled with his gasping breath and a ghastly expression.

Still immersed in his own pleasure, he unexpectedly spotted a small yellowish spot emerging at the top of a mountain farther north. That made him paralyzed. He dropped the fish, threw up his trousers and shouted:

"Wake up! You piece of shit!" He tossed a bone on the side of the cabin, where the other remained asleep. "They lit the pyre of Mount Yahlu! They lit the pyre!"

Feet squirmed in the entrance of the tent, and then a man stood up, stroking his bulky red hair. His face was burned like his companion's, but his deformities were larger and ran from the pockets below his eyes to his neck. He turned toward the small spotlight in the distance and commented:

"Has Black Mouth scaled Yahlu and attacked our Fire Brothers?"

"Stop being stupid! Black Mouth is just a Salbinese legend!"

"But, Maul," the redhead frowned, "some of ours have disappeared in those woods!"

"People disappear everywhere all the time and soon after are expelled by the ass who chewed them!" He countered aggressively, though he was lower than his partner. "Now get on your mount and report the incident to the King of Everything!"

"Hey! Why me and not you?"

"Because I want it to be this way!" He inched forward against his partner's chest. "If you prefer, we can decide that in a domain battle. But you won't have hands to guide the reins of the animal."

Visibly intimidated, the hairy man took a more defensive stance, retreating.

"You're right, Maul," he murmured, lowering his eyes. "I'll leave at dawn."

"You'll leave now!" The other clenched his teeth and closed his fist around the handle of his machete.

Obeying him in an irritable manner, the redhead put on his boots, picked up his equipment, and untied the rope bounding a spotted mare to the tree. He jumped on the back of the steed and set off, spitting at the other's feet.

*

On that sunny morning, the Valiant River showed its traditional vivacity. The waters carried black debris of different dimensions that crossed by the statue of the River Mother and went on as far as the eyes could see.