Author: Emily Kinsey
“Jessie! Get over here, I think I found something!”
Annoyed, Jessie said, “You always think you found something.”
“It smells good,” I offered, hoping to entice him.
It worked, because Jessie only ever cares about his stomach. He discarded his half-gnawed jerky and hobbled over to inspect my findings.
“What’d you think it is?” Jessie asked.
“It’s an animal of some kind,” I said. “You ever seen one like this?”
Jessie leaned over and sniffed the animal. It was furless and covered with a hard white outer shell. If not for the smell, I wouldn’t have been sure it was an animal. “No, never.”
“Poke it with a stick!” I suggested.
“You poke it with a stick!”
“You’re older!”
“And you’re younger,” Jessie said, “which means you have to do what I say.”
“I found it,” I argued, “which means you get first poke.”
Jessie knew he wasn’t going to win the argument anytime soon, so he plucked a stick from a nearby branch and poked the animal several times. The animal flinched and used its forepaws to protect its head.
“Still alive,” Jessie proclaimed. “It must be injured if it’s not trying to get away.”
“Nah,” I said, “I think it’s sick. It’s gotta be one of those new animals that’s been spotted lately. They’re not from here; they don’t take to our environment for too long. It’s why they’re always scurrying back to their mechanical homes.”
“Oh yeah! They caught one a couple weeks ago over at the river. It tried to get away—get this, on two legs! But old man Shepherd was too fast for it. Caught it and skinned it and revealed that juicy layer underneath. Said it was delicious.”
“So, this whole thing is its outer skeleton?”
“Think so.”
“Old man Shepherd said you could pry it off pretty easily.”
Jessie tugged on it and—plop! The skeleton ripped off to reveal the animal’s fleshy inner layer old man Shepherd carried on about.
The outer skeleton was hollow and didn’t taste like anything, so after a few exploratory gnaws, it was promptly discarded. There was a tuft of black hair at the top of the animal’s head and another small spriggy patch near its food opening. Other than that, it was hairless.
As soon as the animal’s outer skeleton came off, it was clawing at its throat and making terrible rasping sounds alerting Ma trouble was about.
She came lurching out of the ground faster than the time Jessie got stuck in the tree trying to catch blue-winged Zoster birds. Jessie and I cowered—even he and I were sometimes afraid of Ma.
Despite its frantic fumbling with its throat, the animal still flinched as it spotted Ma. I couldn’t really blame him—Ma was a sight to see.
Ma sniffed the animal and licked it in several places. She pulled at the thick material covering most of its body—the skeleton old man Shepherd warned us about. Ripping enough of the hard outer material away, Ma sunk her teeth into the animal’s side and its red lifeforce began to pool out.
The animal let out an instinctive cry and fumbled to reach its outer skeleton—its skin was now beginning to turn a reddish, purplish hue. Its attempts were so feeble I almost felt guilty swatting the hard head shell out of reach.
Finished with her inspection, Ma gave a nod and headed back to our hole. Jessie and I shared an excited smile. We both knew what it meant: the animal was Ma approved. We would be eating it for dinner.