41. Death

Wong held half a piece of scorpion meat in his hands and was eating with relish.

The translucent white, tender meat looked delicious at a glance. That poor scorpion had charged straight at the fire giant, only to be roasted dry by the giant's flames a few minutes later. The meat on the bottom had been grilled, while the meat in the middle had been steamed by the high-temperature vapor. One cooking, two flavors.

Wong was enjoying his meal when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rajiv staring into the distance with a worried look. Between chews, he asked indistinctly, "Why aren't you eating, Rajiv?"

How am I supposed to eat?

The corner of Rajiv's eye twitched. "We're in another dimension right now, Wong. We don't even know if this thing that looks like a scorpion is poisonous. Sure, it smells pretty good, but how can you eat it so happily like you don't care at all?"

"When in Rome." Wong smiled. "We won't find a way back anytime soon, will we? Might as well fill our stomachs."

"I really envy that optimism of yours."

"Then eat with me—hey, no kidding, this guy's meat has a pretty rich texture. The chargrilled part is like lamb, and this cooked part is like chicken."

Rajiv gave him a strange look, reached out, tore off a small piece of charred meat, and stuffed it into his mouth. His eyes lit up, and then he started eating just like Wong.

The two of them sat in the middle of the desert, with withered bones scattered all around them. The ground was glass formed by intense heat, and the massive scorpion shell was still radiating residual warmth, standing around them like towering city walls. They sat between the separated chunks of meat