Chapter 5

Tenaro breathed heavily, staring up at the starry sky as the breeze carried the earthy, cool scent of rain. It whipped past him, turning his breath shaky. He shuddered through his entire body.His gaze drifted around him then down to the dead tiger. Its fur was slick, yet the carcass looked kinda edible. Saliva flooded his mouth.

Food is food. He gulped hard. His stomach, however, didn't sound convinced.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he scanned the clearing for kindling. The ground stared innocently back at him—bare and empty out of spite.

This is a jungle for crying out loud. He smacked his left palm against his face, groaning miserably into his hand.

With a sigh, he dragged his legs out the clearing and began rustling through the thick vegetation to find any hidden wood. A horrible odor suddenly hit his nostrils. He immediately turned in another direction.

I don't even wanna know…

Scouring the undergrowth, his hand finally brushed against a single, puny twig.

Fantastic.

When he finally emerged from his long journey into the bushes, he possessed nothing but a miserable handful of wood.

At the very least, the moonlight had grown stronger to grant him better vision. He tossed the sticks down beside the tiger. They let out a pathetic clang as they landed. Grumbling at the sad little pile, Tenaro spun around and trudged back into the dark with his head low.

Fortunately, his second trip gave him a better haul. He returned with a proper collection of branches, enough to actually work with.

He dropped the new wood onto the pile. Now for some stones.

He twisted his head around, hoping to spot a couple of rocks. Once again, the jungle floor was spotless.

“Hoot, hoot!”

An observing owl called out from above, the sound echoing as if the bird were openly laughing at him. Tenaro narrowed his eyes at the creature before his shoulders sagged as he turned back to search.

When he finally returned to the nest, he had acquired a grand total of one stone. He stared down at the lone rock with a completely flat expression. He let out an exasperated breath.

“Stupid trees, stupid stones, stupid wood,”

A sharp gust of wind knifed directly into his ear, making him flinch. He shivered. “Stupid air.”

Then, without warning, a piercing bolt of pain pulsed through his body from his shoulder. Wincing, Tenaro waited through the agonizing seconds until the sensation began to fade.

Stupid tiger.

His eyes drifted back toward the clearing. Suddenly, his gaze caught a pale, round figure resting in a small patch of grass.

Now it decides to show up. His eyebrows twitched.

He marched over to the stone and snatched it up. The cold surface immediately bit into his palm. Crouching beside his nest of kindling, he struck the two stones together.

Click.

Click-click.

Not a single spark flew. The sticks glistened with moisture. He stared blankly at them. Then, his gaze moved to the stones of despair, and finally up to the star-filled sky. His eyes twitched, tightening his jaw in disbelief.

Suddenly, his guts writhed loudly. The churning in his torso was loud enough to actually jumpscare him. He looked down at his stomach, then glared at the stones in his hands.

"Argh!” he slammed the rocks onto the ground. They bounced once, mocking him on their way down.

***

About an hour passed.

Tenaro now sat beside a tiny fire that he had finally brought to life through blood, sweat, and tears. His eyes hung heavy from hunger and an invisible weight pushed down on his shoulders.

A strip of tiger meat was skewered on a stick in his hand, hovering over the flames.

He stared down at his creation. Finally.

The steady crackle of the twigs echoed through the clearing, offering heat that made the cold a bit more bearable.

The nomad's hands were still coated in blood from skinning the beast with the help of his sword. His brow furrowed as the stench of copper clung to his skin. The skinning process had taken an absolute eternity.

Why is this jungle cold?? He let out a shaky breath, watching the vapor faintly rise in the night air.

To his left lay some of the tiger's hide, stretched flatly on the ground. Beside the pelt, resting on a patch of grass, was one of his swords. The steel was heavily streaked with dried blood.

Tenaro glanced at the weapon. His brow tightened. Where the hell am I supposed to find water?

He tightened his grip on the roasting stick. Snorting a breath through his nostrils, he yanked his eyes back to the meat instead. Anything to keep his mind away from the state of his poor sword.

Soon, a foul, sour smell drifted up from the fire. His face scrunched up and his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Should've thought about the smell before committing to this.

When the meat finally looked cooked enough, he leaned forward and blew on it. Taking a deep breath, he bit down. His teeth barely managed to tear the tough meat before the intense heat transferred to his mouth.

“Ugh!”

Tenaro jerked back. The blistering heat snapped straight to his soul. He glared at the food with a look of being betrayed. The meat sizzled in response. His eyes twitched.

Defeated, he let his entire torso droop toward the dirt while keeping his one arm held straight out, waiting for the food to cool. All the while, the foul smell continued to punch him right in the face.

Once he felt it had cooled enough, he tried a second time. He chewed twice then stopped.

A shudder racked his frame. It's so chewy!

He gagged hard, his mouth utterly rejecting the meat of doom and despair.

How did I forget that carnivore meat is inedible? He slapped a bloody palm straight to his forehead.

He froze. Slowing down, he looked at the hand he had just used.

He groaned loudly into the night sky as the crushing realization hit him. Now there's blood on my face!

Blinking away tears of pure frustration, he felt his shoulder throb once more. He pushed himself up to his feet, nearly losing his balance in the process and wiped his eyes.

“For God's sake,” He picked up his sword with immense care, tied the hilt to the rope around his waist, and let the weapon join its twin. At this point, he didn't even care if blood smeared all over his pants.

He turned, raised a foot, and stomped on the fire. The sticks snapped under his weight, and the flame died instantly.

Stretching out his back, he let out a massive yawn and peered into the shadowy trees surrounding the clearing. The leaves rustled softly in the wind. His stomach growled again—dramatic and empty.

He tried to decide which direction would actually lead him to a decent meal.

Where to go?