On the hillside, the fox gazed down into the valley.
Fat Weasel bounded and scrambled up to higher ground, watching the slaughter on the ice path from afar.
Chi Ke and Book Boy finally arrived, stumbling through the uneven snow. Steam rose from both their foreheads, and sweat-soaked strands of hair clung messily to their faces.
Black Snake remained quietly coiled with his head raised, his expression unchanged.
The wild boar was still writhing and kicking wildly. Blood seeped from the mucous membranes of its digestive and respiratory tracts, and its harsh panting sprayed bloody foam mixed with black clots.
Burst capillaries had stained the whites of its eyes red. Bloody tears mingled with mucus trickled from their corners.
Bluish patches and spots of blood appeared on its skin. Old wounds of unknown origin on its neck split open again, and as its head thrashed, they smeared streaks of disturbingly unnatural red across the ice...
The hunter spoke softly to Chi Ke.
"My lord, the boar's been poisoned by the snake. I doubt it'll survive."
Chi Ke sucked in a breath of cold air. If even a thick-skinned, tough-fleshed wild boar ended up like this, what hope would a person have after a single bite?
He was even more curious about why Black Snake had defied nature and appeared in the depths of winter. He should have been hibernating in his cave.
Chi Ke cupped his hands in greeting to Black Snake.
"Brother Snake, seeing you safe and sound puts my mind at ease."
Black Snake flicked the tip of his tail and began slowing his heartbeat, sensing his own condition. His gaze remained fixed on the dying boar, guarding against a sudden counterattack.
The fight had consumed enormous amounts of energy and drawn on his precious venom reserves. The cost was high, yet he could not swallow his prey.
He had fought for his life with everything he had, only to gain nothing. A complete and utter waste.
The hunter noticed Black Snake's dilemma. The boar was too large to swallow.
The venom was fierce. Anyone who ate the meat might well suffer too, but abandoning such a large kill was truly a shame.
Under the gaze of the three people and the snake, the boar's struggles grew weaker and weaker.
The hunter looked at Black Snake, then glanced at the enormous boar. A distinctly human solution came to mind: if he couldn't swallow it whole, why not cut it into pieces?
He had heard the older generation say that snakes normally recognized only intact prey.
But this great black snake was anything but normal.
Seeing that the boar was about to breathe its last, the hunter put down his iron fork and bow, drew the short knife at his waist, and stepped forward. He thrust the tip sharply upward at an angle beneath the boar's throat, driving it straight into the heart.
He pulled out the knife. The blood that gushed forth was dark and dull.
Viewed from above, a broad patch of ominous dark red spread across the ice, slowly eating into the surrounding white.
Black Snake was baffled by this.
Once most of the blood had drained, the hunter turned to explain to Chi Ke and Book Boy.
"It'd be a shame to throw away such a big boar. I reckon the great snake might be able to eat it if we cut it into pieces."
Chi Ke knew nothing about such things, but after thinking it over carefully, he felt it made some sense.
The hunter sliced forcefully through the boar's hide, exposing blackened innards. Frowning, he quickly cleared them out and tossed them aside, then rubbed his hands with snow. He turned the blade and deftly carved off a large chunk of hind-leg meat, placing it on the ice before Black Snake.
Three pairs of eyes fixed on Black Snake in unison. Black Snake flicked his tongue, maintaining his usual bewilderment.
Black Snake was interested in moving objects that gave off body heat. Motionless meat was no different from stones or branches.
He was also extremely sensitive to the mingled scents of prey.
The scent of a cut piece of pure meat was incomplete. He might not be able to recognize it.
"..."
In truth, Black Snake was fascinated by this novel method of dividing prey, and deeply envious. He too wanted the ability to tear enormous prey apart.
The hunter pushed the meat a little closer and repeatedly gestured toward his own mouth.
If Black Snake did not hurry up and eat it, the meat would freeze to the ice.
Fortunately, Black Snake's brain had undergone an evolution. Though it was still smooth, he at least had memories and could think.
He confirmed that this piece of meat came from the boar and judged it small enough to swallow. His urgent need for food after the exhausting fight prompted him to try eating it.
He lowered his head and, out of habit, struck swiftly to seize the meat. His swallowing instinct activated, and his muscles worked together, contracting to draw it down.
He soon swallowed the piece of meat.
Texture aside, anything he could swallow and turn into the energy needed to survive was good.
Seeing this, the hunter hurried to cut more meat, pushing one piece after another before Black Snake.
As he worked, he examined the wounds on the boar's neck.
"Judging by the force and size of these wounds, they look like a tiger's work. Could it be the one we ran into before?"
At those words, Chi Ke hurriedly scanned their surroundings, especially the corners he could not see, fearing that a striped figure might suddenly pounce.
How hard it was to hide away from the world...
Driven by intense hunger, Black Snake swallowed with astonishing speed. As his hunger gradually eased, his agitation faded with it, and he returned to his usual eating rhythm.
Before long, little meat remained on the boar. The hunter was panting, and Black Snake stopped swallowing.
He flicked his tongue, offering no thanks and not even understanding what gratitude was.
The cold weather urged Black Snake to return to hibernation, and he turned to slither toward his cave.
Yet the sight of the hunter cutting up the boar with a short knife continued to circle through his mind. Though the images grew increasingly blurred, they gave rise to a desire: he longed to tear his opponents apart with ease.
Tearing into prey required great strength, something he could not manage now. And so a simple notion gradually formed in his smooth brain: he wanted to adjust his skull to suit the act of tearing and biting.
A crudely formed idea, rough in the extreme, was born in his mind-a notion of altering himself.
By the time his hibernation ended, he might have forgotten this memory.
That did not matter.
At least it had once existed.
If he failed to remember the first time, there would be a second and a third. One day in the future, he would surely engrave it in his memory.
The return climb was extremely strenuous. The loose snow collapsed beneath him and even caused small slides. After several attempts, he changed his approach, winding left and right as though climbing a tree. Once he found the right method, ascending the mountain became effortless.
He slithered into the cave. The mist had grown very faint, and he returned to his old sleeping spot.
At dusk.
The stream beneath the valley's ice was obstructed. Clear water flowed silently through cracks and spilled across the frozen surface, passing a bend before spreading downstream with wisps of dark red, growing thinner the farther it went.
Deep in the night, the flowing water froze. Beneath the azure moonlight, the boar's remains seemed to sink several inches, though in truth the overflowing water had frozen and engulfed them. Frost grew over the dark red carcass. The cold had paused time, sealing death and freshness away together.
The bloody scent drew wild beasts. Most approached cautiously, sniffed around, and departed warily. A few reckless creatures that believed they could withstand the poison took several bites.
Sun and moon alternated, light and shadow shifting without cease.
The meat on the boar's enormous carcass dwindled little by little, patiently stripped away by birds and small beasts.
One day, a heavy snowfall buried
it.
The thick snow could not stop hungry scavengers. They searched with their keen noses, then stubbornly clawed away the ice and snow.
With an almost cruel persistence, they scraped carefully at the hard, dry hide and bones, seeking any last shred of meat that might remain-or merely grinding their teeth-extracting every final use from the remains.
The hunter hung the two tusks, covered in scratches and brown mottling, on the stone wall of his little courtyard.
The hunter thought the spirit medium in the neighboring village might recognize their worth. Something steeped in bloody baleful intent like this might fetch a few coins in her hands.
It was a shame about the hide, but the boar had died horribly from poison. He really did not dare use it.