I came to the end of the path. Slow following trail, winding in and out of the gums. A thin, oiled piece of wood, worked timber to my right- a spear in the ground, straight up and down. The path i was following was worn down, perhaps an old trickling stream, carved into the dusty land. Clay reminded me ant hills. I plucked the timber from the ground easily and realised my mistake too late.
“We will test him” the consensus was reached. “He’s following us, but why?” had been the promoter for the discussion. If he means no harm he will walk on, following us. But if he picks up this spear that we will leave for him That he come across on the path, then we will know his intent.
There was a sick sliding shock that’s made me feel like I was inside myself. Baby kicks in a troubled womb. Sobbing gasps escaped my warmed blooded lips. I fell forward, impeded. My head turned and I fell forward. Grey black spots appeared in a rivulet of colours. My lids closed and opened of their own volition. I continued to exhale, life escaping from the pores in my, slithering our of the wound in my side. My arms convulsed and thudded.
He looked like a fish, gasping and making a “mop mop” sound. It’s his mouth. We closed In Around him and breather in the gums, blood oozed out of him, thinner and redder than I’d ever seen. I put my foot on the creature and pulled my spear free. Then there was stillness. Still and quiet in the cool of the afternoon.