Against All Instinct

The Fruit Bat

The Fruit BatThere was no guaranteed sanctity in sleep for the nomads, who had to constantly keep guard against nocturnal prowlers. Each coming dawn was hardly any safer, as most of the tribe that wasn't keeping watch was still groggy from sleep, and the first glimmers of daylight made them easy to find for those early hour hunters. However, with the advent of Spring, there was a reliable amount of safety with the precautions taken the other day. They relished it while they could; in the coming seasons, such safety would be a rare commodity.

Konta was one of the few men who awoke with the women, who had to rise before the Sun's earliest rays to bring the village up to speed. The hunters were allowed to sleep later as to conserve strength for the trials they would have to face in the coming day; the safety and vitality of the village depended on them being in their top form. However, Konta thrived with only a little sleep, so oftentimes would watch guard until late yet rise earliest, more refreshed and prepared than any other hunter.

Today was especially important to him. It was the day that the young boys of the village would be taken on their first hunt, to prepare them for the trials they'd face to earn their manhood. It was the ideal time to do so, with the dangerous beasts of Winter retreating to colder climates and the deceptive and cunning beasts of Summer yet to fully awaken from their hibernation. In particular, there was one beast that thrived during Autumn that would be ripe for the picking during this time. That was their target today.

The other hunters finally stirred from their slumber, stepping sleepily from their tents as they made their way towards the basins the women had heated for communal bathing. A quick scrub in nearly boiling water woke them up readily enough, and before long they gathered around the meal prepared much earlier that morning, a feast of various scraps from the celebration held the other night.

Konta had already eaten and was, instead, inside his hut preparing the tools they would need for this journey: a flint knife honed to its sharpest and well tested, and a spit made from Everlasting Redwood with the end sharpened to a point and burned black to harden it. The knife would be the only tool they needed for this particular hunt, but the spear would be necessary to ward off any unwanted intrusions. There was another favorite tool of Konta's that sat wrapped, inconspicuous, in a small corner of the hut, but he ignored it for today. It would be too cumbersome to bring along for a hunt where discretion was more important than brute force.

As he prepared to leave the tent, Kontala stepped in with surprising grace. Being with child, her duties were lighter than those of the other women, and she was given frequent rest periods to tend to her own health. As she entered, her eyes alighted on Konta's tools, and a glowing smile crossed her face. Konta, seeing her, could only beam back as he strode forward on powerful legs and swept her into an embrace. Taking his hand in hers, she led him to her belly, where even now their progeny was stirring faintly. Konta marveled at how Kontala could read his emotions so clearly. Today he would be helping the other families' boys learn to become men, but in short time he would finally have a pup of his own to teach the ways of the land – a day that he waited for with bated fervor.

The embrace was quick, but not hurried. Konta let go and made to stride out of the tent, but one hand lingered on his mate's shoulder as he pulled away, only slipping off when he had stepped too far to reach out further. He could feel her eyes following him until he was completely out of sight, and that thought filled him with a vim and vigor greater than any amount of sleep or food could bring; he was ready for today.

The village boys had already gathered around the covered fire pit, each one nervously gripping at the flint knife that their fathers had hewn over the last several days. Some of the hunters were already waiting impatiently near their pups, while those without children were still trickling in. Konta, being one of the latter, stood a good distance from the small huddle of parents and pups as he twirled his knife idly.

It was only a couple minutes after the last of the pups and hunters had entered the tarp when a giant of a man parted a curtain, stepping halfway into the enclosure before throwing himself into a sitting position onto the floor. It was obvious to anyone who saw him why he did this – so massive was the man that even sitting cross-legged on the floor his head came up to the chin of the average hunter. On his back was a pelt of brown spines that appeared to have the texture of felt but clearly had knife-like edges. This man drew the attention of every man and child in that tent, for there wasn't a person in the tribe who didn't recognize the skill of the Head Hunter, whom Konta knew as Zanzu: the man who single-handedly killed the deadly king of Winter, the Razorback Mammoth.

Zanzu's eyes darted over the group, and Konta watched as he took a mental tally of everyone there. It was one of the traits a highly skilled hunter was supposed to have: remembering every member of a large hunting party and making sure all were accounted for at all times. In mere moments, he was finished and stood as he beckoned with a hand for the group to follow his lead. Konta couldn't help but notice the armband he wore, and for the briefest moment felt a pang of jealousy. There was no time for such worthless emotions, though. The hunt was on.

The village scouts had already found their prey the previous night, a task that was only fit for those who had learned to move with the stealth and cunning of the vicious night beasts. Getting there was a simple task, but this was a training hunt, so the pace they made was halved as the more experienced hunters were set to the task of showing the pups how to move without disturbing the forestry or leaving tracks, silently warning what plants were poisonous or, in some cases, carnivorous and thus should be avoided. Fortunately, their destination was not far from where they had set up camp, and even at half-pace it took less than the span of the afternoon to arrive.

Before the pack was a grove of trees that stretched a fair deal higher than their neighbors. Konta recognized these as Skyscraper Cedars, trees that grew indefinitely until they could no longer bear their own weight and were sent toppling to the ground. Of course, he also was aware of the creature that made Skyscrapers their nests during the Spring season, due to their risky propagation methods.

Even now, the hunters were addressing the pups mutely, gesturing to a small number of objects that appeared attached to the trunks of the half-dozen trees in this grove. They were brightly colored orbs, about the size of a young man's head. Zanzu reached up towards one that no other hunter could reach while standing and held it with the care one would hold a newborn with. His other hand grasped his knife and blurred through the air as he slashed between the tree and the strange orb, separating the object from the trunk almost effortlessly. He lowered it for the young ones to observe, and now they saw that the orb was actually placental in nature, clear and filled with a colorful liquid. In the center was a small, featureless embryo – the fetus of a Fruit Bat.

Konta had hunted Fruit Bats before. Flying beasts that in adulthood boasted wingspans equivalent to five adults standing and were able to produce their own food supplies internally provided they had enough water. Konta had named them from the sweet taste their flesh produced – a taste shared by the pods of their young. These primarily nocturnal monsters prospered during the endless rain of Autumn, where they could hunt without rest for days. Fortunately, they migrated to unknown lands to hibernate during Summer and Winter, returning during Spring only long enough to spawn their brood that would gestate over several months, finally emerging in Autumn to start their own lives.

Sure enough, Konta's keen eyes scanned the canopy of the Skyscrapers until they finally landed on a large figure concealed within the shadows of the leaves. The adult Fruit Bat was currently sleeping, worn out from having planted its young on the tree. The Fruit Bat pods, connected securely to the trunk, would draw nutrients from the tree to complete their growth. However, these placentas were filled with a nutrient-rich material in which the embryo developed, a perfect food source for any creature careful enough to not invoke the wrath of a sleep deprived mother Fruit Bat.

Each other hunter took turns demonstrating how to harvest the Fruit Bat young: slowly climbing up the tree, supporting the pod while separating the thin mucous veins that drew forth nutrients, and carefully handling the pod lest the delicate membrane around it puncture.

The hunters had made their demonstration while climbing to the higher placentas, leaving the lower ones alone to make it easier for the less developed pups to be able to reach. The adults each took a small number of the fledgling hunters and watched them take turns climbing up and separating. As was normal, the children took quickly to the teachings, but failure was not treated kindly. Every pod that was broken or dropped was rebuked with a firm but quiet blow from the child's father; it was necessary for the pups to learn that wasting the life of a creature and gaining nothing was not tolerable.

Finally, each child stood with a placenta in hand, making sure they held it as carefully as possible. The full-fledged hunters made show of their skills by deftly harvesting the remaining Fruit Bat pods, leaving one per tree, in the highest reaches of the canopy where they'd be concealed and safe from other predators. Konta learned through years of experience that by doing this, the Fruit Bat embryos would not be competing with each other for the tree's precious nutrients and would grow much more quickly. This would lead to a choice few strong, hardy Fruit Bats, rather than numerous weaker ones. The strong ones would definitely thrive, making sure that they'd have more pods to harvest for many Springs to come.

They left the mature Fruit Bat sleeping, not wanting to rouse it with so many young, inexperienced targets that were just as ripe for the picking as the pods. The harvest they had today would make fine meals for days to come, with yet more of them set to be preserved for use when food supplies ran low. It was a successful venture today, something that Konta knew was rare for a hunt. He glanced around at the content faces of the children, who seemed genuinely proud of their achievements, and knew that not all of them would live through the coming seasons, as their instincts would be tested time and again against far more dangerous fare. For now, though, they would have this small victory. That, Konta knew, they deserved at least.