Three Dreams by Anton P. Nym
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Three Dreams, Part One: White
Date: 11 April 2005, 1:12 AM
Pirpip snuggled into a ball, trying to shield himself from the stifling heat air-breathers found comfortable by putting his backpack between as much of him as possible and the outside world. Dozing made the time between patrols easier to endure for him and his fellow Unngoy. Finally the world became hazy and faded from his senses... and he began to dream.
He was back home. Gone was the encumbering backpack. The chafing breath mask was across his face no more. The air was cool and free-flowing. He sniffed it; just invigorating methane and tangy ammonia without the acrid stink of oxygen. The familiar scents of swamp life and marsh plants lifted his spirits. And something else on the wind tantalised him.
Prey. He smelled prey. An Ammamm.
A quick glance around and above showed Pirpip the way. He galloped on feet and knuckles over to a nearby kirrap tree of the right size. His powerful arms gripped the bole and lifted him off the ground while toe-claws dug into the soft bark. He shimmied up quickly to the lower branches. A quick reach with his left arm let him hang from a sturdy branch, looking down at the ammoniated water. Yes, there, a wake disturbed the surface. Something big had just passed by. Pirpip howled a hunting cry.
Answering howls came back from ahead. He felt a surge of glee. Another quick glance showed him the way, and he swung forward to reach for the next branch. And the next. And the next. And now with enough momentum he swung into the air to catch another branch on a nearby yunnin tree, but the touch of its rough bark barely registered before he was airborne again and on his way to the next branch. The wind of his passage rammed the Ammamm's scent even deeper into the scent-channels in the roof of his mouth. His heart pounded with the thrill of the chase.
Pirpip brachiated his way through the swamp, following the scent-trail and wake as swiftly as he could. The chase was not in a straight line; he had to follow the trees, not the trail, but his pursuit let him cross and re-cross the trail many times. Despite his zig-zag course he was gaining on his prey.
From ahead he heard a deep groan of dismay. The Ammamm had spotted the oncoming Unngoy from ahead. The shrill Unngoy cries signalled the Ammamm's turn, and Pirpip changed his approach in response. Quick glances let Pirpip determine which channels were deep enough to allow his prey to pass... yes, that one must be the Ammamm's only escape.
And indeed it was. The Ammamm surged into view, the water foaming around its broad flippers as it desperately tried to swim away from the other Unngoy. It bugled in distress when it spotted Pirpip, but the Ammamm had gone too far into the shallows while grazing and was separated from its herd. Pirpip gauged the Ammamm's course and swung parallel to it, matching its speed and direction for a few hammering heartbeats... and then plunged, arms spread wide, with a wild cry.
He landed perfectly on the Ammamm's withers, and arms that could grip the smoothest of tree trunks now gripped the aquatic herbivore's pale blue skin in an unbreakable hold. The Ammamm went to sound but found that the channel was too shallow, then converted the dive into a roll in an attempt to crush Pirpip into the muck below. Pirpip changed his grip to let him shift counter to the Ammamm's roll until the base of its long neck was briefly exposed. Then he lunged and sunk his teeth into the vulnerable flesh of its throat, while wrapping his arms around the Ammamm's neck.
The Ammamm's blood was cool and sweet, pulsing all the harder from its exertion and panic. Pirpip sucked at the artery while his stranglehold on his prey's neck tightened and tightened. Almost lost in the watery splashes and anguished bellows of the wounded prey were the approaching cries of his pack-mates, but even over the chaos and the luscious joy of the blood he greedily drank Pirpip knew just when the others had arrived to finish the beast.
They would take the weakened creature back to the village, so that the old and young and pregnant could drink their fill. And when, at last, the Ammamm died and no more precious blood could be drawn from its exsanguinated corpse, its skin would become tents and bags while its bones became poles and beams and the raw materials for the craftsmen of the village. The flesh would be portioned out to the hunting beasts, which themselves could be drunk from in times of need and otherwise helped drive prey to the hunters of the village when they hunted on land.
As the one who had struck the first blood, Pirpip could claim a mate that night; the first tent made from the Ammamm would be his, to shelter his young and his wife as she gave her blood to their new brood...
The growl of a Sanghelli woke Pirpip from his dream. He leapt to his feet, overbalancing as his dream-self's sense of motion intruded on the waking world for a moment, and pointed his plasma pistol at the doorway they were guarding. But there was no cause for panic; it was simply a changing of the guard. Pirpip joined his fellow Unngoy as they waddled under their ungainly backpacks.
He looked forward to evening food nipple.
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