3 A fragment of the future
This is a part of larger work, a novel, maybe. It’s set in a weird post-apocalyptic future and has bullmen, lizard folk, and rat people.
Beauford dragged the dead Varani through the dirt by its scaled tail. The third one he’d caught in as many days. When the full moon was approaching and the herd began mustering in the foothills, they would come, slinking in the shadows.
His thick hoof crunched on the brittle ground at the base of the mountain. Dry. Desolate. He looked forward to moving back up the mountain. Natural spring helped to keep some plants alive up there. Beaufortd’s belly grumbled, thinking of when he’d eaten anything but occasional flies that flew into his mouth. He shook his head from side to side to shoo some of the hundred or so that buzzed around him. His huge horns swayed through the air.
After 100 years of pilgrimage, he thought he’d be used to flies.
The hazy clouds of sand and dust let him know he was approaching the herd. And they were on the move. Early.
He stopped and let the varani drop to the ground. If the herd was moving, there was no point dragging the stinking lizard all the way back. There would be no fires to burn it, anyway.
Varani scouts travelled light. They did not bother with ration, shelter, or much tech. Their scaled bodies and cold blood were perfect for survival in the valley. Which, as Beauford thought about it, made this one a little peculiar. It had a leather satchel, rifle slung on its back, and a piece of tech strapped to its wrist. He fiddled with the strap until it came off and slid it into one of the woven pouches on his belt.
