[Trade] Lean Times

It was a commonly accepted fact that volcanic eruptions eventually fed the land and created blooms of growth like nowhere else on the island. Something about the ash that fell could revitalise the landscape, but it would take time. In the aftermath of an eruption, when the sky was still dark and the ground covered in warm powder, food became more scarce than ever before. The inhabitants of the ashlands could still eke out a living, but they would find themselves weak from malnutrition more often than not. That is what began the tradition of the ‘dry harvest’, the practice of finding bones and rocks rich with minerals to tide them over until the green growth fought its way through the layers of ash. It was one of the few times where the herd would splinter, pairs would venture on their own to find scraps to scavenge and avoid fighting over the meagre offerings they would come across. Typically mated pairs, siblings, or just lifelong platonic partners would leave the herd in dribs and drabs, rarely parting in a group larger than a pair. There were exceptions to this, and the deputy of the herd, Smoketrail, found himself in one of these situations on this occasion.

The worn older Styra kept glancing back to watch the two females following him through the ashlands. Verdigris, his mate, wasn’t the issue, she was competent and quick-thinking, possibly more able to tackle a problem than even he was. The focus of his attention was their tagalong, the newest drifter to arrive in the herd. Smokestack had appeared from nowhere, heart rent with juvenile angst and alone in the cold, bleak aftermath of the eruption. The Ashwalkers had welcomed her in reluctantly, knowing there would be little food to go around but not having the heart to kick out the youngster. It took convincing, but not on their part. Smokestack was fiercely independent, recently bereaved and completely unaware of how fatal it was to roam these lands alone. She hadn’t even scavenged in a dry harvest before, hence Smoketrail and Verdigris’ tutelage on this excursion. When she relented, her wary glances seemed heavy with the implication that she believed she was being some kind of burden. Any extra members were always going to be a burden, but Smoketrail managed to stop Greylander saying exactly that.

“We’ll head the long way ‘round, this soon after an eruption the black glass will still be sharp,” Smoketrail noted. He had memories of a time where the herd had been forced to cross freshly formed black glass, and he was sure there were still scars on the soles of his paws from it. Verdigris hummed in agreement, Smokestack said nothing but followed diligently, nearly treading in the footprints the older Styras left in the ash. Her face was grim and serious, not betraying any thoughts on the journey. Her eyes watched the horizon, like she was expecting to encounter anyone else out here.

Visibility was poor through the fog that lingered after the eruption and the silhouettes of scorched trees were the only landmarks to help them navigate. Verdigris would stop every so often when they walked particularly close to one and explain the signs of dead wood, making note of how each factor indicated its inedibility. Smokestack listened closely, her face just as stern as always. For his part, Smoketrail would occasionally pipe up with what they were actually looking for, rocks and bones to lick or break apart. Swallowing rocks was an essential part of Styra digestion but instead of the rounded pebbles they usually ingested, they were looking for soft, porous rock that surrendered sustenance to them easily. Bones were even better, producing better eggs in the laying season and having soft nutritious innards that soothed hunger in a way the other spoils of a dry harvest wouldn't. Bones were the true prize, and Smoketrail held back a sigh of relief as he saw the first glimpse of worn ivory emerging from the grey fog.

A corpse lay on its side in the ash, barely covered by a light dusting of ash. Death had occurred after the eruption, and not long ago either. Smoketrail circled around the body and looked over the quality, looking for rot and infection that may lead to their illness if they ingested the bones of this poor creature. It seemed something desperate and hungry had torn into its side and picked most of the meat clean off, which suited them perfectly fine. A lot of creatures on the island could only eat flesh and not bone, Smoketrail believed it had something to do with the shape of their teeth. As he made it to the head, he paused, seeing large horns protruding from the mostly stripped skull. It was one of their own kind.

“Ah, even in death our kin protects us,” Verdigris said softly, like she was speaking with an old friend as she looked upon the weathered skeleton. She inclined her head towards the ground, her eyes closed in brief reverence. Smoketrail knew she was saying some kind of thanks to whatever spirits she believed were watching. He liked to think they regarded her as fondly as she did them, if they existed. He turned to the youngest of their group, about to instruct her on how to crack open the bones when he noticed her expression. 

Smokestack looked horrified, her eyes wide and panicked.

“We’re not actually going to eat that are we?”she asked, entirely aghast.

“What did you think we meant when we said we were going to look for bones?” Smoketrail wished his natural timbre was more inquiring, as it was when the words left his mouth even he winced at their bluntness.

“I didn’t think we would eat one of us!” Smokestack retorted, the feathers on her crest bristling in a mixture of fear and indignation, “What kind of monsters would that make us?” The panic never left her face and Verdigris stepped in to intervene.

“There’s no point refusing a gift that can sustain us,” she said gently, “if our friend here can no longer make use of their bones, then we must do them the honour. It would be better to boost one of your own than simply be picked apart by scavengers isn’t it? There’s a reverence to what we do when it’s one of our own.”

“Verdigris is right, Smokestack, I understand if you feel upset about this, you’re probably from somewhere that can afford to bury their dead, correct?” Smoketrail surmised, knowing he’d hit the horn on the head when the youngster flinched, “Things are different out here, resources are scarce and times can get desperate after the volcano erupts. We have to do a lot of... unsavoury things to survive.” Verdigris nodded solemnly, she took no pleasure in the dry harvest but it felt like too much like squandering in these wastelands to leave the bones be.

“Would you eat her? If she died and you were starving?" Smokestack asked pointedly, her eyes cutting across to Verdigris before staring the old male down again. Smoketrail glowered at her, knowing she was just trying to provoke a reaction. 

“With great grief in my heart, I would,” he said evenly, “Because I know that she would want me to keep living for the two of us.” The younger Styra whipped her head around to look at Verdigris, her expression screaming ‘see? See? See how quick he would turn on you!’ but the older female simply curled the edge of her mouth in a smile and looked lovingly at her mate.

“This is something you two talk about pretty often then?” Smokestack scoffed, her argument having fallen flat on its face.

“If we don’t talk about death, how can we know what to do when it happens?” Verdigris asked, her tone that of a gentle teacher. Smoketrail predicted the derisive snort from their young companion, knowing she would view it as condescension instead of care. She turned her back on the pair of them, facing into the fog.

“Go on then, gorge yourselves, I’ll wait until we aren’t eating our own kind,” she snapped. Verdigris tried to intervene but Smoketrail stepped between them, gently bumping his beak against hers. 

“Hunger will teach her, my dear,” he said softly. Verdigris’ face crumpled, devastated at the thought of a youngling going hungry for the sake of pride. Still, she withdrew and began to crack open the rib bones that hung from the exposed spine like icicles. It was grim work, but she could feel the gnawing in her stomach fade as she picked the marrow out with the sharp edge of her beak. Smoketrail let her eat first, like he always did, so she made sure to leave some choice pieces aside for him, feigning interest in their squishy liquid gold. It was rare to find it so fresh, usually they had to gnaw on the bones to extract any kind of worth from them. She kept glancing over her shoulder as she ate, but Smokestack’s back remained resolutely turned to her. She decided it would be in everyone’s best interest to avoid provoking her further, and simply sat in silence as Smoketrail had his share of the bones. She glanced at him too, knowing the guilt he felt over things like this. He never quite made his peace with it the way she had, still feeling the pang of regret like he was stealing something that didn’t belong to him. He swallowed his bones the way he swallowed his pride, knowing that to refuse a gift like this could be the difference between life and death in the Ashlands. Verdigris watched as Smokestack began to paw at the rocks around her, cautiously licking their dark surface and recoiling when they stuck to her tongue. She had made her choice, at least for today.