Finding My Feet

Coming into the world was no easy journey. Carnachias and Melanoche could agree on at least one thing. Upon completing my construction I would be put into use directly. With the farewells of “Good luck” and “Do not ignore me!” my flesh begins to boil and burn. Within moments I lost awareness of my surroundings in a flash of pain.

In a moment, I am lying on the ground. As I regain my senses, I feel the ground I lay on in great detail. The decaying leaves beneath me form a blanket above the stiff grass. I try to open my eyes and fail. Without the instinct to open my eyes, I struggle to **** them open. For a moment I struggle formlessly on the ground. I hear myself move. The motion allows me to get a better feel of my form before it pools as I relax. I reach out my hand, feeling an arm form as I reach forward. Fingers curl and grasp experimentally. Forming another arm, I try to push myself up.

My limbs push against the rest of my still-liquid form. I gain no purchase to stand. I continue to struggle, hearing and feeling the vegetation crunching beneath me. The crisp leaves pass into my body. I feel them shrink as they moisten within my flesh. The small particles soon disappear as my body corrodes them.

I relax once again, this time in frustration. There is a deep shame in my core as I think that my decision to hybridize with a slime may have been poor. My body pools beneath me. The feel of each leaf and blade of grass carries my thoughts away as I immerse myself in the sensation.

As I let my awareness drift, I realize I am neglecting one of my available senses. I can smell. The air is rich with the decay of autumn. I seem to have spawned in a copse of trees. I also have taste, though greatly dulled. The leaves I have been absorbing don’t disgust me, though I would like to move out of the pile. I focus on the olfactory. I smell the bark on the tree trunks, the dampness of the loam around me, and something a little more rich. I shudder in disgust. The scent of animal dropping is not pleasant, even as a monster.

Suddenly I catch a smell that excites me. Despite my disgust, my instinct follows the trail of leavings until it catches a surprisingly powerful scent. Never before had the scent of meat stood out to me so strongly. I can follow the scent of what appeared to be a few rodents very carefully. Their scent draws my full attention. Said attention quickly becomes hunger.

With a satisfying twist, my body consolidates into something I’m familiar with as I roll into a crouch. I suddenly feel very different. After vapid helplessness, any smooth movement makes me feel alive.

The rodents still themselves as they hear me shuffle around. I can smell them still. Their long warm forms lay among the cold leaves. I think they are weasels. It seems that, though blind, I could still find myself through a combination of every other scent.

I form a mouth. An imitation of teeth and drool form in it before I catch myself. The mouth is not necessary, no matter how hungry I am. The act of imitating a predator, however, feels very empowering. I close the mouth. Focusing on the scents, I believe I can catch two weasels in one leap if I’m careful. I lower myself, crouching. I hesitate, worrying that I might not be able to jump. My hunger overrides my fear as I pounce.

With a swish I leave the ground. Passing silently through the air, I land on the rodents with a thump. With the air pressed out of them, they make no sound as my body subsumes them. As they pass through what feels like a membrane, my hunger subsides. It is replaced, however, by another desire. I feel sadism bud within me, spurred on by the struggling of the weasels. I’ll admit, the glee I feel disturbs me. That said, it feels similar to the hunger that compelled me to move. WIth some misgivings, I indulge the feeling.

Within my body, I grasped my food while it squirmed and wriggled. Exerting a little pressure **** the air out of the weasels. I felt myself flow into their lungs as they struggled to breathe. Then, leveraging myself both inside and outside the weasels, I gave them a twist. They snapped like twigs. The sadism gave way to satisfaction for a moment as I began to digest the rodents in earnest.

And so my life begins. I sit silently in the forest and eat.