Day 2 Evening

[Clownpiece]

Just the other day, Somerled had led himself to believe that there wouldn’t be food in the plains. Now, of course, he had proved himself wrong. Very, thoroughly wrong. The prairie grasses, which came up his his abdomen easily, were absolutely teeming with various forms of small life. Mostly small rodents that didn’t want to stray too far from their home, which made catching them a difficult matter. The equally tiny birds that flitted from stalk to stalk well out of reach weren’t any easier.

The monster shambled along through the grasses, his last conversation with Amaterasu long behind him. Now it was only himself and the flatland. He held the whip in his hand, unfurled and making light scores in the ground, as he trudged forward, more monster than predator.

From a stalk mere feet in front of Somerled, a bird perched, chirping carelessly. The weather spirit came to a stop as soon as his eyes fell on the feathered target. A powerful crack sounded, the bullwhip surging forward with his inhuman strength, and the once-peaceful chirps exploded into a dying screech. Before the avian could so much as fall to the ground dead, the monster rushed forward, grabbing it out of the air, and without so much as a moment of hesitation, he swallowed it whole, not even bothering to chew.

This did nothing to alleviate the pangs in his stomach, and he continued to throw his gaze about the fields around him, looking for something else. The crack of his whip and the dying shriek of the bird had scared off everything immediately around him. Unsatisfied, Somerled continued his walk, whip still dragging behind him.


Shadows fell away as the sun dipped below the horizon. Blood, fur, and feathers thoroughly stained Somerled’s mouth. Every single animal he had come across, at least all the ones too stupid to get out of his way, had swiftly fallen to his whip and been devoured. No matter how much he ate, however, that pain in his gut remained. His rhythmic footfalls came to a stop, and the monster turned up to the clear sky above, the light of the first stars dotting the dusk. A smile turned up on his lips, and a grave chuckle escaped them.

“Day three begins just past this night,” he said, calmly and evenly. “It won’t end well.” No more words came from the storm spirit for several more seconds, even though he knew his other half couldn’t respond. “You know how it is. The same thing that always gets us killed.”

Somerled sat down roughly, patting the grass around him into a more agreeable state.
“If only you could have been the one,” his voice fell to but a whisper, grass rustling around him as he lay down for the night. “You don’t sabotage yourself at every step.”