Scene Ninety One
In which Dinner is prepared
The family of deer was grazing by the side of the lake. They were very peaceful.
Their reflections showed in the mirror smooth surface of the lake, and the sweet honeydew scent of flowers drifted over the scene.
The wasn’t really any sound, even the birds couldn’t manage more than a vague chirp every now and then, but perhaps the deer heard something; one of them raised its head suddenly to look in a direction away from its family. It kept watching for a long time, but apparently it didn’t see anything, as it put its head down again and kept eating.
A rock sailed gracefully through the air; no one noticed it until it crashed into a bush on the other side of the clearing. The deer bolted like four tight springs and they had almost exited the clearing when something like a small whirlwind jumped on them, rock in hand.
Several minutes later Greg was walking away, a freshly killed deer over his shoulders. Well that’s today’s dinner taken care of, he thought, probably tomorrows as well.
He wished he had been carrying his pack when he had run from the inn, but then he supposed that that was what years of training were meant to knock into elite military units; always take your food with you.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to cook a freshly killed dear. For a moment he considered eating it raw, but the thought of intestinal parasites put him of that idea.
He would have to build a fire, he thought, that would be hard; Greg had never been an outdoorsy type. He had a feeling that you got fire by rubbing two sticks together or maybe with a magnifying glass; rubbing two sticks against a magnifying glass.
He tried to remember his brief training as a mage; if there was any part of his life which had prepared him to set things on fire, then that would be it. But it didn’t seem to matter how hard he focused, the memories wouldn’t come back.
Greg realized that he really didn’t learn too well while ducking exploding pigeons. Peanut oil is what he kept coming back to, peanut oil; he had had peanut oil in his pack when he left it at the inn.
Greg sighed, and dumped the carcass outside the crude hut that he had spent all of the morning building.
When it comes down to it, he realized, I don’t know how to clean or prepare a deer carcass either. Greg had never tested, or wanted to test, the limits of his vampiric immortality, but he had a feeling that that was about to change.
Smiling a grim smile, Greg picked up two rocks, and started knocking them together.