>> In the midst of devouring a deer carcass, the walking corpse’s fins twitch. With an irritated groan, he pushes away the deer and stands up on both legs. Albeit a little bit shakey, he stumbles over the deer and smells the air. It’s hard to breathe through your nose when it’s constantly bleeding. His mouth hangs open while he sniffs, stepping forward and nearly falling, he catches himself on a nearby tree. Leaning on it, finally his nose catches up to his senses and he can smell. Just a little. It smells of darkness, of longing, and of... home?
>> For just a moment, his eyes flash recognition and his whole body shudders. Unwilling to let go of the disassociation, he’s only able to see clearly for a moment. And with that fleeting moment, he lets out a soft whimper. His body was rushing to update him on the events that had unfolded. The knife in his side throbbed with newfound pain he wasn’t used to. It must’ve been there a while, that was something he figured out right away. His head pounded now, thoughts rushing by too fast for him to comprehend, just before he went down under again, he screamed. He screamed loud and painfully, his throat sore. Before he was done, he didn’t register the pain anymore. The scream went from pained, to angry, to hungry again. He was hungry. Always hungry. Hungry, hungry, hungry, the only word that kept repeating in his head now. Turning around, he went back to the deer to finish what he’d started.