《Immortals: The Eternal Kings》


 Flamel: 0

    Flamel.


    He didn''t know what it meant or where he had heard it from, but the word burned itself within his mind, it''s presence all-consuming, demanding every single iota of his attention. His head pounded like drums of war, the sound of blood rushing like a raging river. He was on the verge of passing out when suddenly it disappeared as quick as it came. He tentativelycracked open an eye to see his surroundings. A dense canopy occupied his entire field of vision, he could barely see his hands in front of him as he covered his face.


    He was laying on the hard ground. He didn''t recognize his surroundings. He didn''t even recall how he had gotten here. He slowly got up on unsteady legs when another burst of pain made him collapse face first. He''d had remembered. He was going out with some friends to eat lunch when suddenly the skies darkened. A flash of light, some screams. a floating platform hovering over an endless abyss. Eyes, many eyes, so very many eyes,allof the eyes.They stared at him unblinking. Following his every movement. Things moved in the shadows.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Staring back at him, hands reaching out waiting for them to fall. A bark of laughter. His own? Or somebody else''s''? 11 other people. Moving blobs. A loud and harshvoice in their heads. Was it one or a million? He didn''t know.


    Reincarnation. Power. Immortality.


    Prepare. Run. Where was he running to? Why? From what? He didn''t know, only that he had to Run.


    He coughed up a glob of blood and bile before darkness consumed his vision.

 Flamel: 1

    ''This is a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.''


    Nico A. Abelino ducked under a low hanging branch. The twigs and leaves brushed across his face. His legs burned and every breath left him far too soon, yet still, he ran with all his might, fueled by desperation and adrenaline.


    His face and arms were scratched up from running through the underbrush, he hopped over a fallen log and made a sharp turn to his right in an attempt to throw off his pursuer. The low growls from behind proved his efforts futile.


    It was horribly cold, his breath forming a mist that started to fog up his glasses. Every step followed by the soft crunching of snow beneath him. He could barely hear the rapid steps behind him, yet he didn''t need it to know they were closing in on him fast. He has been running for half an hour now and he was quickly running out of steam. Was this it? How his story came to an end? Dropped in the middle of nowhere and eaten by wolves?


    Shit. What a crappy story. It''s so bad he wanted to cry. The author, God, was a damn retard. Who the hell just kills off the protagonist like that?! Where''s my cheat?


    Delirious from fear and his incoming death, Nico ranted and cursed at his fate while turning to face the pack that has been chasing him. He grabbed a nearby branch as he braced himself. He wasn''t going to go out without taking one of these assholes with him.


    A quick head count showed 6 of them. They slowly inched forward while surrounding him. It was too late to change his mind and try to make a break for it. He kept his back to the tree and kept them all within the edge of his vision so he wouldn''t be caught off guard.


    The one on his far left suddenly rushed towards him. He reared back and swung the branch like a baseball towards its head. It was a direct hit on the side of its head and earned him a whimper of pain, but unfortunately, he barely did damage as the branch was too thin and flexible, it bent when it connected and lost a majority of its force.


    Shit.


    While he was busy with the first, another had pounced him from behind. The unexpected attack and sudden added weight made him fall flat on his face. He lost his grip on his weapon as his arms flailed. He felt a sharp pain on his back as the creature took a bit out of him. He quickly rolled on his side and elbowed it. He felt it connect with its ribs and thankfully got it off him.


    He didn''t know why, but the other 4 didn''t attack him while he was down. Maybe to keep watch for any opportunities trying to steal their meal, maybe to watch him struggle as entertainment, or maybe they didn''t feel he was worth the effort. He didn''t know, but he wasn''t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.


    He scrambled up to his feet and looked around. His stick was flung to the side and there was no way he could reach it before the wolves got to him. Better to just stand his ground than show them his back again.


    Both wolfs had gathered up side by side this time. They seemed more cautious this time as instead of rushing him they slowly inched closer and observed.


    Should he try to climb the trees? Wolfs can''t climb trees like tigers, right? Won''t they get bored and leave him alone after a while?


    He spent a moment seriously contemplating the idea before giving up, he couldn''t feel his fingers, he was more prone to falling on his ass and getting mauled than escape if he was to try.


    What could he use? All the rocks were buried under the snow, and there was no branch he could reach. There was nothing in his pocket besides his wallet, car keys, and phone. Should he throw everything at them? The wolves were only 30 feet away now, he had to act fast.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Remembering a schoolyard fight from his childhood he took off his jacket and wrapped the sleeves around each fist. Then he reached down and got a handful of soft powdery snow.


    The cold was that much worse without his jacket to block the winds, but he would get eaten way before hypothermia would set in at this rate.


    The two growled before charging at him. He waited until they were a mere 6 feet away before acting. A handful of snow to the eyes blinded the wolf to his left. The other one continued forward lunged for his thigh. Dodging to the side, he wrapped his jacket around the throat of the beast and choked it out. Its power was great, but being yanked on the throat and without its momentum, it was no match for his strength and weight.


    He had to act swiftly while the other one was still incapacitated and the four wasn''t acting yet. He had no clue if they would suddenly interfere or not. He tightened his hold on it before tugging sharply, shoving it towards the trunk of the tree behind him.


    A loud thud echoed in the clearing, a bark of pain, yet he didn''t stop. Another blow and a whimper of pain. Again and again, he repeated this with all his might, the sound of it''s suffering encouraged him. Eventually, he heard and a crack and felt something give way. The wolf''s skull was broken.


    His victory was short-lived, as claws raked across his back leaving behind bloody lines. He turned around and found a new one had joined the fight. He couldn''t tell them apart from appearance but he was sure the one who attacked just now was the blinded wolf. There was just the slight hunch to it''s back, something aggressive in its stance he couldn''t consciously pinpoint, but could sense nonetheless.


    He charged towards them. One circled around trying to get to his back, but he ignored it. The one in front had pounced towards him and he rolled under it. Turning as quickly as he could he grabbed onto its tail while still on the ground. He tugged it until it fell. He slammed a fist onto its joints and heard a satisfying crunch of a broken bone.


    Something hit his side. A scream. It took a moment before he realized it came from him. The furry bastard took a chunk out of him. He felt a sudden wave of warmth as his blood dripped through his shirt. Shit


    He got up on unsteady feet away from the disabled wolf and faced his aggressor. The bloody thing swallowed as it stared at him, licking its maw clean. It was taunting him. Rage and fear overcame logic and reasoning as he let loose a loud battle cry, startling the beast and giving him enough time to tackle it. In a tangle of arms and legs, they both fell down. He punched, kicked and clawed at it in reckless abandon. Any passing by would be hard pressed to figure out which was the real wild animal as at one point he even bit at it, tear its ears clean off.Judging by the pain on his right hand, he must''ve broken a finger or two punching it.


    He was a dead man walking but damned if he''ll go alone.


    The wolf soon stopped moving, it was a mess with chunks missing from its ears, a lost eye, and lost patches of fur, whether it was unconscious or otherwise he didn''t know.


    He himself wasn''t a pretty picture, he felt faint for blood loss and had gained a whole bunch of wounds. His vision was blurry and blood kept flowing into his eyes from a deep gash on his forehead.


    He rubbed it off on his forearm and that was a fatal mistake. The moment he took his eyes off the wolf it dashed at insane speeds. Jaws like steel traps clung to his arm and its momentum knocked him flat. His head slammed into the ground and almost knocked him out. He almost wishes it had.


    With immense force, he could feel it breaking his humerus. He''s almost certain this was the one he threw snow at.


    He almost let out a laugh at his fate. Tears streaked down his face and the taste of iron was heavy in his mouth. He wasn''t sure if it was his or the wolf''s.


    He let out a deep sigh, dense white vapor floated up to the skies. There was a grim and broken smile on his face as he finally gave up. He had given it his best shot and made the stupid beasts pay their price in blood. There was nothing more he could do. Even when he had been surrounded he felt a faint hope of somehow getting away, some miracle. Yet, it was for naught. At this point, he couldn''t even so much as move his fingers anymore.


    It was truly a ridiculous situation he found himself in and he couldn''t help but chuckle despite the pain it brought.


    Yet, it wasn''t funny when the wolf broke his funny bone and tore his arm clean off. It flew up in a long arc in the sky before landing with a heavy thud. Whatever unknown force that kept the other wolfs from coming seemed to disappear at that moment. Howls echoed throughout the clearing as they all descended upon their fallen prey.


    The last thing he saw was bloody maws and haunting glow of the moon as he was ripped apart.

 Flamel: 2

    Nico had quickly learned something he had that was as much a blessing as it was a curse. He couldn''t die. As the wolves tore him apart, ripping through muscles and bones away, they dug deep into his chest cavity with reckless fervor. They broke open his rib cage snapping wide apart as if opening a clam and feasted upon his innards. He could feel them eating away up towards his heart bite by bite. Every moment was pure agony. He would''ve screamed by his lungs were missing chunks and all that came out was bloody gurgling. His arms and legs were either broken or missing altogether.


    A sound of cracking echoed, reminding him of someone breaking apart chicken bones.


    There were no chickens unfortunately and bones were indeed being broken. It was his. The beasts having aimed for his marrows and slurped it up like a delicious treat''s filling. The pain was all-consuming and kept him rooted in this horrific moment. It''s bite keep him all too awake to this scene of unending horror. He couldn''t fall unconscious. Even death would''ve been blessing at this point. Yet, the final sleep escaped him no matter how much he longed for its embrace.


    There was no possible way for a human to survive in his state, missing a majority of their flesh and organs, not to mention the blood loss. He should''ve been dead long ago. But he didn''t die. No, he was all too alive and aware as the wolves scattered him across the plain in broken pieces. The only part of him relative intact was his head and even that was heavily damaged as he was missing his entire lower jaw, scalp and the left eye. Only his right remained in relatively good condition and it had stared unblinkingly the entire time, and his torn arm lying 20 feet away. He guesses they weren''t interested in a frozen meal and desired fresh meat.


    It felt like an eternity of suffering, the chill of winter mercifully enough helped to deaden his exposed nerves and numbed the pain. The wolves had left after finishing their meal, sparing naught a glance to their fallen. He didn''t know how, but he was still alive. If you could call something that was nothing more than half a bloody skull with one eye alive. He didn''t notice it at first because of all the pain, but he felt an itching all over his "body". He felt an intense feeling of heat build-up within before it turned into a burning sensation. Pure lava coursed through his veins and the itching intensified until it felt as if a million ants were crawling beneath his skin.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Suddenly his field of vision doubled. His other eye had grown back. The more his body regenerated the more burning and itchiness he could feel. As soon as he got a nub of an arm back, he flopped into the snow, dragging his upper body with only one limb and a hollow chest cavity into the biggest pile. The cold provided momentary relief, but he was being driven mad by the burning and pain. His screams can out in weak wheezes as his lungs were still missing. He slammed his face into the snow and shoveled it down his empty gullet, his arm packing it around his newly formed heart.


    Blood trailed around him as the organ pumped away with no container for it just open valves. When his arm fully formed with a proper hand and nails he scratched with all the force of a madman, ripping open gashes on his naked chest and throat. The skin had easily broken, but he didn''t mind. All he knew was he had to get rid of this feeling. Yet his momentary reprieve came with a harsh repercussion as the feeling only increased where he had opened the wounds.


    His organs had formed, but they dragged on the ground behind him as he crawled with both hands towards a larger mound of snow. When his hands lost purchase he just continued you with his chin and shoulders. He was like a man possessed he ignored all the snow. Some rocks hidden underneath the snow had stabbed into his intestines, but he didn''t mind as they got tangled. His new fingernails had broken and peeled back, yet he continued across the ground.


    A leg had grown by the time his fingernails had fallen off for the third time. He was close now, only a dozen feet away. He got up on unsteady feet and hopped his way there. He had stepped onto something soft that squished beneath his weight. It was crushed now and gave off a foul stint that made his eyes teary, but he recognized it immediately. It was his stomach that the wolfs didn''t care to eat. Shock and horror shook him out of his madness. He would''ve thrown up, but his new stomach didn''t have any content. Yet rationality quickly left him once more as the sensation bit away at his sanity.


    His screams were muffled by the snow still in it. He tore his eyes away from the wolves leftover meal and droved into the snow mound with his one leg. He buried himself within it, clawing his way ever deeper. The cold, pain, and exhaustion finally got to him as numbness finally soothed away his burning itchy.

 Flamel: 3

    Nico didn''t know how long he was unconscious, but he had woken up miserable. Treading through the clearing towards the trees he did not know where he was going. The cold and snow was once a soothing cream for his burning agony. Now, it was a harsh and unrelenting force seeking his demise. The powerful winds made his already unstable footing worse and had sent him tumbling more times than he cared to count. The cold nipped at the tip of his nose and left his extremities cold and his bones aching. He could hardly see a couple feet ahead of him, especially with his glasses buried or crushed by his earlier encounter.


    Just thinking of the memories of his encounter sent a shiver down his spine that was entirely unrelated to the weather.


    He didn''t even have rags left to cover himself, he was butt ass naked in the middle of a snowstorm.


    Yet, he could only continue forward blindly in hopes of finding shelter. He had discovered that he had the power to regenerate in a supernatural manner. Besides, when he had been mauled to death by the wolves, he had cut himself earlier on a rock when he fell. His wound on the palm of his hand had sealed shut and left unblemished skin right before his eyes. Something that would''ve previously taken weeks and left a small scar. It had left a slight burn and tingle, but nothing as hellish as his first time.


    He guessed it was based on the severity of the wound and how hard it was to fix him. He didn''t want to test out what a fatal one would feel like.


    Another thing he learned was his body no longer followed the fundamental rules of physics.


    ''Energy can not be created nor destroyed''


    Yet, he had regrown entire limbs from nothing.


    Was he even human anymore? And did it even matter at this point? He could faintly recall that he had been tossed into a different world, but the details and how escaped him.


    He needed to find a safe place and figure things out quickly. One traumatic death experience was enough for this lifetime. He never wanted to be that utterly helpless again. To experience that type of pain and fear. And to do that and ensure his future he had to get stronger.


    He grabbed a dead branch of a suitable length as a walking stick, using it to make sure he didn''t trip on anything hidden beneath the blanket of white.


    His fingers and toes were turning blackish purple. He had lost a few a while back that broken off, but they eventually grew back. He freaked out for a while at first, having not felt it happen and only noticed when he had tripped, but eventually he had gotten used to it, as it was so numb he could barely feel it anyways. People really could get used to anything he supposed.


    His breath came out in a constant thick fog in front of his face. The only good thing about his trip so far was that his powers somehow healed his eyes from years of abuse from constant exposure to electronic lights such as phones and computers.


    His vision had never been so clear, ironic since that only meant he could see the snow battering his face in high definition.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    He lost his phones and he couldn''t see the sky properly as it has been constantly overcast, but he thought he had been walking for at least a few hours now.


    His head was starting to pound and his limbs got shaky. Hunger had set in long ago and he had been ignoring it, but it seemed he was reaching his limits. He sure hoped his regeneration powers could bring him back from starvation. I mean, it could grow back almost his entire body so it should be able to, right? Yet he wasn''t sure what principles it worked upon, maybe it only applied to battle wounds or there was a limit to how many times he could heal, there were so many things that could go wrong that he didn''t want to tempt fate.


    He continued you for another half hour when he saw something that almost brought him to his knees in despair. A very familiar phone and a ring of keys. He crouched down and grabbed them both and traced the steps back to where his...remains were located. Another few minutes and he found the spot of the battle. He had spent hours walking in a circle.


    Getting out while this storm was raging was an effort in futility. Even if he made it out, where would he go? For all, he knew this forest could extend for miles up miles, what if it was like the Amazon Forest? That thing spanned over 2 million square miles!


    He decided to grab everything he could and settled deeper within the woods. He didn''t want any wild beasts to come attracted to the scent of blood.


    He carried one wolf at a time to his new spot a short jog away and the remains of his jack. The most of the back was torn to shreds, and it was coated in blood, but the sleeves and upper back was surprisingly intact.


    He swiftly struggled to put it on and then got to work on trying to make an igloo. He had watched plenty of survival videos and arts and crafts online for fun. It was a pity that almost all of those were set in warm forests or jungles.


    He remembered seeing a group of guys make a large igloo before, but they used sharp knives to cut bricks out of ice or dense snow. Something he had neither of as the snow around him was powdery and he couldn''t dig without breaking all of his fingers off. He could barely force them to twitch as is, the blood had almost frozen within his veins.


    He released a frustrated sigh as he got to work. he kneeled on the ground and slammed his forearms down and patted the area tight as he gathered them. He slowly collected piles of snow around his spot before repeating the process. It was a long and grueling work.


    It was like trying to build a sandcastle next to the coast right before high tide. He had to work fast because if he took too long then the wind would blow away his pile before he could pack it down, as if taunting him for his efforts and weakness, and if he packed it as soon as he got some then the layer would be insignificant and he would have to repeat the effort countless more times.


    Hours had gone by and he felt the exhaust seep deeply into his bones. What if he just went to sleep? No, just a quick nap? The allure of the mere thought was so tempting and his eyelids felt so heavy that he almost did just that. Yet he jerked himself awake. He wasn''t sure if he''d ever wake up if he did. Even if the cold didn''t kill him, what if some kind of animal was nearby and found him an easy snack?


    The hatred of the beasts, the fear of a worthless and lonely death, and self-loathing at his weakness became a heady cocktail that warmed him up and overcame his need for rest. With a second wind, he worked on his igloo with twice his previous speeds, forcing his hands into motion even when his body screamed at him for a break.


    Time flew by in a blur as he was surrounded by constant white. Gather up, place down, pack together. He chanted it like a mantra as he did his work with single minded determination, blocking out the world. It took an incredible amount of time and effort, but eventually, he had made a serviceable igloo. It looked like the work of a child, and part of him feared it would collapse on him during his sleep, yet he was well and truly spent at this point and beyond caring. He crawled inside the narrow space and promptly collapsed.


    His sleep was thankfully uninterrupted and so he ended his first day in the new world.

 Flamel: 4

    He had woken up near the crack of dawn. Although it was still cold inside the igloo, it was much better than being outside in the raging winds. His hands and feet were still stiff, but they were no longer they frozen and monstrous looking things they were before. The fierce howling of the mind made him worry for a moment that his roughly made igloo would collapse. This was no good. He couldn''t just hide inside and hope things will get better. He sat and rubbed himself and his hands together for a few minutes, occasionally breathing deeply between his hands to gather it''s warmth before crawling out his icy home.


    He started to work on thickening the walls and making it more smooth. It went much more easily now that he had daylight and the proper use of his hands. What took him hours of struggling to complete yesterday, he did in one half of the time with twice the quality of work. The walls were now thicker with a smooth dome shape, the entrance elongated to better prevent the wind from entering, and he had gathered some sticks so he could attempt to make a fire. the sun was probably at its midway point judging by how bright it was, although he still couldn''t see the sky with the ongoing blizzard.


    He had to hurry. There was no guessing when something might come sniffing around. There was so much to do and prepare if he was to survive. He also needed something to protect himself. A tool. A weapon of sorts.


    He stumbled around and had managed to find a couple of palm-sized rocks perfect for his purposes. They fit well within his hands and they had a sharp edge.


    He had dug out the snow from within his igloo until he could see the forest''s ground. Placed the rocks around in a circle to make a campfire.Nico seemed to have caught his lucky break because the rocks he had gathered produced sparks when he clashed them together.


    He had broken off low hanging twigs from the surrounding trees, but he was worried it wouldn''t be enough. Crawling back out he went to search for some more things he could burn. He didn''t have much hope for dry wood in the middle of a blizzard, but one can hope. The snow had really piled up during his sleep because where it was only up to his ankles last night it was now up to his calves in some places.


    It took a long time of searching but he had found a fallen horizontal tree. Its underside seemed snow free and it had covered the ground under it from the snow. He shoved the dried leaves and twigs in his sleeves as makeshift pockets and he used a particularly sharp rock to cut away at the underside of the trunk. His whole frame shook with the rebound force, but he didn''t stop slamming away at the trunk, chipping away at it bit by bit. Once it was a few inches deep he pried off a section and tore it off with his hands. It was only a small chunk smaller than his forearm, but it was relatively dry and exactly what he needed.


    He heard something. With a start, he stiffens up and dropped everything to his feet. He didn''t dare move. His heart hammered in his chest as if it was trying to break free and escape by itself. His breath came shallow as sweat dripped down his brows disregarding the cold.


    He slowly turned around with a shaky movement.


    There was nothing there. No wolves ready to rip his throat out, no monster lurking in the shadows. It was just a pile of snow that fell down from a tree. He let out a few tense barks of laughter. Relief and shame flooded him. He was alive. He was safe for now. And he was absolutely fucking pathetic. With a self-mocking smile on his face, he went back to work.


    He ducked underneath the trunk and clawed around. Blindly reaching around the undergrowth he found some small sticky bits with cobwebs and what assumes was amber. He faintly recalled them both to burn pretty well.


    With his arms full he slowly trudged back to his home. He had gone out for another three trips because he wanted to gather enough to last him until morning and before it was too dark out. He didn''t see even a shadow of another creature thankfully enough, not that he could see much more than blinding white after a few feet. Yet, he still hurried along with quick steps. He wanted to be inside and away from open spaces as soon as possible.


    The newly expanded igloo was around 7 feet wide and 5 feet high. More than enough room for him if he laid on his sides or stayed low. Its walls were a thick 4 inches and it kept the entire thing well insulated. He took a sharp rock and carved away at a particularly thick branch he had gotten. Thing and wispy strands of wood started to form along with a small pile of sawdust he carefully protected from the wind. It was a mere handful, but it could mean the difference between life and death if he could get the fire going.


    He made a small pile of dead leaves, fine strands of wood, sawdust, and cobwebs before striking his rocks above it. Harsh clangs echoed out repeated it as he tried his best to get the spark to land on the pile. The sounds of clashing rocks echoed through his igloo, his focus so intent that even the harsh howling of the winds was blocked out.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Yet, even by the time his arms ached, he had nothing to show for it. Anger and frustration were beginning to set in. How did those people on survival channels make it look so easy?!


    He was at his boiling point. He was wet, cold, and miserable. With rage fuelling his action slammed the stupid rocks together with all his might. It was so strong that some fragments of it broke off, yet by some miracle, it was enough to give him a small ember.


    Overjoyed he quickly tossed the rocks to the side and tended to it. He gently waved his hands over it to feed it oxygen, when he saw it begin to smoke, he gently used a stick to cover it with some more sawdust. It slowly grew and he nurtured it as if it was a premature infant. His care and effort paid off as it soon turned into a small flame.


    He let out a small laugh in triumph, tears pooled in his eyes as he watched the pitiful thing. It was small, barely bigger than a candle''s worth, but it was stable and growing. It gave him a sense of hope in this wretched icy world of white.


    He slowly snapped some twigs into finger-sized bits and fed it to the fire. He had poked small holes for the smoke to go out of in the top of the igloo and gathered the rocks in a circle around it.


    It was a long day''s of hard work, but he felt more content. The warmth of the fire, the thick and smooth walls of the igloo. He almost felt like he was on a camping trip with his friends if one could ignore the two dead wolves in the back anyway.


    He stared at the fire in silence. There was just something...mesmerizing about the way the flames danced. It seemed so cheerful, like a small child playing, it flickered around the branches and leaves. A curious child that wanted to touch everything. For the first time since his arrival, he went a sense of safety and contentment.


    He could now relax a bit.


    That was a mistake.


    As soon as he let his guard down, loosen his tension, the weight of his situation came crashing down on him as if Atlas holding up the world. When there was no work to be done, no urgent task to consume his attention and thoughts he was left with his thoughts. Give time to process his situation.


    He was alone. Everyone and everything he loved was ripped away from him. His home, his friends and family, his dream of the future. That was his situation and his life now. Maybe forever. He didn''t even know if there was anything out there besides things trying to eat him.


    Everything was gone.


    He felt tears build up once more in his eyes, yet he didn''t let them fall this time. Nico was done crying. Sitting and crying never changed anything. No, he needed something else, something less passive. Anger. It was anger that drove people to action. To move forward. He roughly rubbed his face before turning bloodshot eyes towards a target of his hatred. He couldn''t touch the Gods who had cursed him so, but he could very well vent on the wolves who had ripped him away.


    He grabbed one of his particularly well-formed rock before grinding at it with another, slowly sharpening the edge. It was rough and crude work, but he ended up with a sturdy stone knife. He tested the blade on his finger and was satisfied when it easily split the skin.


    He gently ran the knife over the wolf''s abdomen, splitting it right down the middle and taking care not to puncture into flesh. He wanted to skin and make something out of its pelt. It was surprisingly easy to do, as despite it''s thick fur, the skin was thin. He even started humming as if he was in an art or cooking class.


    It took some time, but he had managed to get a halfway decent pelt, it wasn''t the prettiest thing as even without putting his shoddy skills into consideration it was covered in blood and there were holes in it from broken bones piercing through. It was from the wolf he had killed before dying. Still, it was relatively intact and would serve him well.


    Now, came the hard part. Carefully he pushed his knife in its chest cavity and cut it open in half. It was tough as the muscles had hardened in the cold, but he eventually managed. He was careful to remove the organs without spilling their content. Stomach, bladder, all the good stuff.


    He could''ve probably saved some such as the heart and liver for consumption, but it wasn''t worth it in his mind. Not only was it gross, but he heard that eating polar bear liver could kill you. An overdose on the high amounts of vitamin A found within.


    He didn''t know if it applied to wolfs, but he wasn''t going to chance it. He dug a pit in the back of the igloo and buried it. He didn''t want to toss it outside and risk attracting wild animals. It was also why he didn''t bleed out the thing before. Hopefully, the combination of wind, snow, and dirt will be enough to mask the scent inside his home.


    He separated the thing into pieces and then buried in the snow, keeping everything from smelling bloody and as a freezer to preserve it. Hesliced outthin sections of meat only an inch or two thick and placed them upon a large flat stone near the fire to cook. With how thin they are they cooked quickly and he soon ended up with well-cooked wolf briskets. The smell was absolutely amazing considering how he hadn''t eaten in days. He washed his hands roughly in the snow to prepare for his dinner.


    He carefully grabbed some, blew on it lightly, and shoved them in his mouth. It was a bit tough and bland as he didn''t have seasoning, yet the wonderful fat and juices filled his mouth with delight. It was similar to poke in a way, except more lean. He let out a sigh of content as he slowly enjoyed his meal and roasted what must''ve been a few pounds of meat.


    His appetite was voracious and he had to admit, if only to himself, that the act of devouring what had caused him so much fear and pain was immensely satisfying and therapeutic.


    Hecarefully stuck some more branches in the fire until he was confident they were enough to last him until morning. Hecupped a handful of snow until it started melting and drank it heartily.


    It was with a full stomach and a warm fire that he went to sleep on a bloodied wolf pelt.