The remaining Islander, running across the plain, kept ahead of the Mainlanders. They didn’t chase him very fast. This might have gone on for quite a while. They took their time, wearing him down with their endless endurance.
No sooner than this thought crossed my mind, the Islander tumbled and shouted in pain. Before he got up, the Mainlanders were on him. He screamed as they cut his belly and pulled out a bloody mass. I’d heard they take the liver as a prize.
The older of the three Mainlanders held the organ toward the sky before bringing it to his mouth and biting. Then he held the bloody mess out to the younger men, his sons I assumed. One of them was the fellow I’d run into. He refused to partake, but his brother gnawed at the gore.
No one among the Islanders knew why the Mainlande
