Chapter 1: Crap! Where the Hell?

Moaning piteously, his head aching, he clenched his already closed eyes tight, wishing the world would go away. Either he was drinking all night, someone shattered a heavy chair over his head or he head-butted a ram. Though a rhino sitting on it while sipping tea was equally likely. Rolling over, he noted he was laying on grass, not the soft short kind, but a sharp, tall, itchy variety. A type he’d never encountered before. After all, most grasses are simply different varieties of the same basic...

Only barely conscious, yet curious, he slowly peered through his lids—the light too bright to open them—and gasped—inhaling deeply. This definitely wasn’t home! The sky was an odd orangish color, with duel suns: a smaller, nearer one with a dimmer brownish hue, and a larger, more distant one well off to the side and evidently setting, even as the other was still rising.

“What the friggin’ hell?”

Grasping his forehead, trying to hold his head together lest it rupture, he rolled over, closing his eyes and psyching himself up. After gathering his strength, he opened them again, considering his surroundings without moving.

The grass was indeed ... odd. He could feel several pieces piercing his back. They’d likely bleed, yet the pain wasn’t comparable to his pounding headache. It wasn’t only the sharp ends, just breathing caused the rough saw-toothed blades to tear his flesh.

Trees stood in the distance, the edge of a forest, though they were utterly unfamiliar. Standing tall—much taller than any he was familiar with—with a sleek, reflective surface and adorned with multiple pointed spikes, which made climbing them impossible. The air smelled different too, with an almost bitter scent triggering tears, which didn’t aid his burning eyes. His headache eased a bit, though not nearly enough.

Evidently he was naked, otherwise his back, arms, legs and butt wouldn’t sting as they rubbed against the near razor-like edges. He definitely hadn’t stumbled out of a bar and passed out in a public park.

However, his breathing was clear, only mildly unpleasant, thus it was a relief his irritations weren’t from allergies, or he’d already be gone, without any epinephrine dosage sufficiently strong enough to combat an otherworldly-level anaphylactic shock. The odd scents and the irritating air triggered a cough, though he fought it down. He concentrated on his breathing. Deeper controlled breaths in from his diaphram, not his chest. This was ... old hat? He shook his head, where the hell had that come from?

Nervous of glancing around, as nothing he’d seen helped him understand what was happening, he wondered how he ended up here. He was ... He had no idea where, nor what he was last doing. Searching his absent most-recent memories, nothing made sense. Then again, the headache could have resulted from a ... currison? Whatever the word was, a blow to the head. However, his thinking was clear, his memory was lacking, which was a classic symptom of ... something.

‘Okay, what’s my name?’ he asked, unable to answer. ‘What’s today’s date?’ Again, nothing. His questions were focused, though his answers ... weren’t. He couldn’t guess the century or even the mell... “Aargh!” he groaned, the sound echoing inside his skull, worsening his agony.

Frustrated, he concentrated, gathering his strength, rocking to better ease into sitting up. Now, everything seemed foreign, downright alien. He glanced at himself, confirming he was entirely nude, although he wore a new, polished leather belt, holding ... shiny pointed shells?

“When the hell do I finally wake up?” he demanded, his voice also sounding unfamiliar. Somehow deeper, slightly groaning and oddly accented. What frigging happened to him?

Pulling a shell from its polished sleeve, recognizing the glistening, hard substance—harder than most natural elements. If he had those, he must possess the matching weapon, so propping himself up with his left hand, since he awakened laying down, he glanced back where he lay.

There it was; a familiar shape. A ... crowbar? No, that wasn’t it. He recognized it, unable to place the name. It was not only the same rigid, reflective substance, it was small, easily carried and fireable with only one hand. It had a brace and a ... similar draw string, made of the identical material, which would launch the ... darts in his belt. Yeah, that’s it. Darts, not shells.

Reaching over, he grabbed the crossthingy—the solid feel reassuring—hoisting it as he stood. Only instead of standing, he arched his back and sprang to his feet with a practiced ease and glanced around, surveying his surroundings searching for potential dangers. He was used to this and recognizing potentially dangerous situations, despite his faulty memory.

As long as his brains weren’t dribbling down his neck, he assumed he was safe enough not to worry about his health. After all, you can’t nurse a headache when dead!

He faced an extending clearing, the odd forest surrounded him on three sides. Keeping his still unloaded crossthing ready, he moved confidently forward. His bare feet seemingly finding their own way, searching for any unusual movements.

There were recognizable yet unfamiliar sounds, which was promising, yet unlike any he’d heard before. Bark-like calls from the tress around him, the breeze creating an odd hollow sound in the trees above and hissing chirps from unknown insects in the grass.

It didn’t take long to determine the face and formost edges of the grass were sharp, so walking facing the smoother far side, presumably addressing the predominant sun, was fine. However, there was no way to determine which it was, the nearer or brighter one?

Moving into a larger clearing, there were still intermittent trees and shrubs of all kinds, though not a single one recognizable. Easily passing each, giving them a comfortable clearance, he continued, until he heard something truly familiar—voices.

He couldn’t yet figure out what they were saying, but now knew what direction to head. Unsure whether these were friends or foes, he wanted to approach slowly and survey, before actually engaging them, another seemly practiced skill.

With many obstacles in the way, the sounds were clearer the nearer he approached. He then saw them ... and froze!

The creatures are humanoid, though their limbs thinner, sleeker and significantly longer than his, and their skin a rich, vibrant light purple. They looked nothing like him, yet they too were familiar, as were their words. Apparently he knew more than he first suspected.

Realizing he was a long ways from home, obviously on another planet, somewhere likely thousands of lightyears from his own, he felt not only relaxed around them, his tensions eased at seeing them.

He didn’t know why, but guessed he’d either lived with or married one, learning their language, or perhaps he was once stationed on their world, living among them.

The phrasing and pronunciations were similar, though with a short clipped dialect with less complex words and shorter sentences.

Easing forward, now calmly walking through the alien grass—which still occasionally cut him—no longer distracting him. He was too focused on meeting and introducing himself to these people, but again, he had no idea who or what they were.

Moving cautiously, not wanting to scare or surprise them, he kept his eyes peeled and his crossthing prepped for any others nearby.

He stiffened and froze, hearing a soft unexpected sound among the many other strange otherworldly noises, yet still recognized it. The gentle pad of a predator stalking their prey, along with the click of sharp claws, striking the hard ground beneath the grass.

Surveying for the creature, he pulled three darts from their clips in his beltclip, loading the first, while keeping the spares ready to swiftly reload. Whatever the beast was, it was notably dangerous and probably unpredicable too.

One of the ... people, both females, froze and cried out “Ligor!” Her companion scrambled backwards like an upside down crab, leaving her friend frozen behind, too terrified to flee lest she trigger it into attacking.

He saw it, still silently advancing, now issuing a quiet hiss—likely designed to terrify its prey—and realized it was one massive kitty. Not the small cuddly kitties which purr, in another similar family. The sound, like his own voice, was much too deep, seemingly penetrating his very bones. It’s fur and outer hair was thicker, with two tails instead of one, but two separate sets of precision saber-tooth like teeth projecting over its lips, too tall to fit into its mouth.

Nope, he wasn’t eager to face off against this particular kitty, nor fond of its temperament and inclinations.

Moving rapidly yet noiselssly, having identified his target, he shouted “HEY!”, surprising everyone, including himself. It ceased advancing, partially turning, giving him a few more quick steps, before he pulled the trigger, aiming at its head.

It was fast, clearly nimble despite its immense size. Again, its limbs were thinner than he expected. As its body was between him and his goal, it did little to block the hard metal bolt. It flinched, it’s feet tensing, shifting, not attempting to flee, as the bolt struck it, though only a glancing blow, stunning, rather than killing it outright.

He slowed, sliding the next dart into place and cocking the string, as it turned, still unsteady. He pulled the trigger, releasing another projectile, as it faced him, flashing it’s ultrasharp teeth and issuing an ungodly, terrifying cry, seemingly rattling his very bones. He was now committed, whatever occurred.

The second shot was truer, striking it square in the forehead. It froze, stumbled slightly, shivered and collapsed, like a six-hundred pound dead weight.

The unnamed hunter continued, though slowing, not trusting the potentially wounded animal. He loaded another, and prodded it with his bare foot, feeling his toes sink into its thick fleece.

Watching it carefully, scanning for any others, he yelled over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

It took the terrified woman a few seconds to gather her wits to respond. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll need a sharp knife, and something to carry it back with.”

“You’re, going to carry a full-sized ligor?”

“Only the meat, but we have to move, as other scavengers will come, wanting a taste!”

There was another silent moment, and he heard it as she stood, and her rapidly retreating feet. “Tor! TOR!”

He withdrew another two shells, not leaving many spares, and surveying the distance for other predators, started searching for his rest, as their lives depended on them. Finally locating them and prying the final one from the kitty’s skull, requiring a bit of twisting and pulling, he noted someone returning.

Spinning, not knowing who or what it may be, it was the same girl, not her companion, and he lifted his ... weapon away from her.

“I have it!” she announced, running up beside him as he knelt beside the beast. He glanced, her plate only a broad piece of curved bark, though thicker than most, making transporting anything even more difficult. “No one has ever killed a ligor before!” she marveled.

“Keep an eye out for others. Don’t panic if you see one, I’ll handle it, but...” He held his hand out, setting his ... dart-thrower aside, within easy reach.

After a moment’s hesitation, she placed a small, black, chipped knife—obviously flint—in his hand. That’s what he hoped for, rather than something sturdier, without the sharp edge he required. “What are you gonna do with it?”

Parting the animal’s fur and holding it with one hand, he slit its belly, its intestines spilling out. Letting the blood drain, he reached in, extracting the intestines by hand, until it was mostly out of the body cavity. Once more unaware how he knew how to clean such a creature.

His assumption was correct, both its ‘guard hair’ and it’s underlining hair was thicker, the top coat slicker, making stabbing it with something as small and fragile as a flint knife virtually impossible. “Hold your nose,” he cautioned. The girl stared in fascination.

Lifting either end, he severed the upper and the lower intestine—a substantial burden—withdrew them, stood and carried them away, throwing it into a clear, open area: the bile, blood and shit flowing freely.

“That’ll keep the smaller scavengers at bay.” He returned and again knelt by her, parting the undercoat and lifting the rear leg, slicing through the tendons holding it to the body, then cutting the skin to free it.

Due to the flint’s inherent weakness, he muscled through the cut, relying on force to prevent the irregular blade from catching and tearing the flesh he preferred whole. Twisting, he freed it. That done, he tossed it beside them, and sliced the animal’s underbelly again, and handed her the knife as he grabbed the skin, raising it.

“Slice it, as I pull it clear,” he instructed.

“Why not just take the meat,” she spoke in a calm yet quiet voice, already doing so, “and leave everything else before something comes for us?”

“There is a lot of it, and I prefer feeding people, rather than even larger beasts, who’ll only be hungry again. I don’t mind starving them, whenever possible.”

They made swift work, as he removed huge strips, dumping them onto her impromptu tray. “Uh, who be you, and ... why do you look ... as you do?”

He paused, facing her. “Frankly, I don’t know. For now, call me Adam, as it seems fitting. What’s more, I don’t know how I got here, although, however I did, it screwed up my memory.”

“Adam?” she inquired, her voice raising at the end of the question, as he resumed his task, once more scanning for anything of concern. Smaller scavengers were already nearing their offering, though sufficiently skittish they hadn’t yet closed on it.

“In my culture, he was the first human, and ... that’s what I am. We’re similar, as I assume I’m the only of my kind here.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, you are. No one else is stupid enough to tackle a ligor, much less succeed and get away with it.”

He heard something behind him, recognizing it as it was too loud to be a wild animal, which lived by stealth.

“Tiss? Tiss?”

“That’s my sister, Lor,” she assured him, before turning and softly calling out “Here!” The two individuals were noisy, not because they couldn’t travel silently, but because they too were desperate to flee.

“That’s what I assumed.” He continued cutting, dropping the last of the muscle onto their tray. When the others—the other girl he saw earlier, and an older male, so similar it was clear they were related—carrying the same trays neared, he called behind him, “help me flip it.”

The man froze, his eyes wide. “What?” Rather than pausing, Adam grabbed the legs, braced his, and started lifting on his own. Tiss immediately rose, helping. Observing her response, Lor joined in.

They finally rolled it, and it fell with another heavy thump, while Adam held the now loose skin clear, so they wouldn’t have repeat it.

“That’s a lot of meat!” the man declared, blinking rapidly.

“Leave the empty trays and grab a full one. We’ll require them as soon as you can return. I can hold anything off, yet we need to move quickly.”

They both rushed forward, reaching for the one tray, when he raised a hand, delaying them, and stood over its head. Pulling another dart from its pocket and holding it firmly in his hand, he struck the beast’s skull, hard. The others gasped when he succeeded, prying enough loose to tear part of the it away, producing a frightening crack.

He then used a smaller broken portion to scoop out the gray matter, before handing it to Tiss, taking a small amount, and eating it, sucking his fingers as if it were a treat.

“You eat that?” she said, clearly shocked.

“It contains vital nutrients you won’t gain from either foraging or hunting. They’re the heavy elements which allow life to exist. They’re concentrated in the brain and heart, where they’re most essential. Plus, considering how strong, brave and ferocious this beast was, it’s our way of paying it tribute. By consuming it’s crafty brains, and it’s courageous bravery, passing only a taste to us in return for the honor.”

He realized how problematic this could prove, yet given their near feral state, he wanted to convey a more natural, respectful view of hunting, to keep them from doing as humanity did, repeatedly wiping out entire species, just because they could. A healthy respect for nature is always something to encourage, over wanton greed alone. The end result was inevitable, yet the longer he could delay that day, the better for everyone.