As he got to collecting twigs, building a fire, and creating a spit atop it, I beat the lizard against the jagged end of a rock. Its limbs convulsed with each pounding of the head but soon grew still and limp in my hold. Drawing out a pocket knife, I skin the animal shallowly, conscious of not chipping away its flesh in the process. The blade’s gleaming edge enters smooth and clean only to resurface red and wet and with the tangy scent of iron.“You don’t have to.” Lin interrupts as I begin to slice the animal in half. He speaks with the slight intonation of guilt, a thin flimsy layer that lifts just briefly every time for me to notice his sunken temples, hollowed cheeks, and dark eyes flickering anxiously between the animal and me as if I would eat it any moment without him.It was my kill, after all.
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