Post by Korren Greeneyes on Sept 7, 2006 22:12:30 GMT -5
It was evening when Korren returned to Horde Headquarters, after taking a long vacation from active duty to go on a camping trip on the other side of the island. The evening meal had been finished, along with all the dishes, and the cooks had retired about an hour ago, when the green eyes cautiously peered through the open kitchen door.
Nobeast was there, apparently, but the red-haired fieldmouse was not about to take his chances. Slipping in on tippaw, he heaved an obviously heavy haversack onto the counter, and made a more thorough inspection. Nobeast ransacking the pantries; nobeast in a drunken stupor in the cabinet; nobeast sleeping nearby any doors. Good, the coast was clear.
Korren returned to the counter, where he opened the haversack and laid most of its contents out. There lay the remains of a sizable young adder, minus the head, bones, half of the meat, and all the organs, including the poison glands. The remainder of the meat was expertly flayed and cleaned, and no blood seeped from it onto the counter.
The expert who did this was, surprisingly, none other than the oddly-colored young mouse. It was an old family recipe; his grandfather, a great mouse chieftain in a region near the Borderlands, had lived in prime snake territory. Snake had been cooked as a primary source of protein, and turned out to be quite tasty. Even his father, the nomadic outcast, had cherished the dish, for, when a beast lives off of the land, he eats what he must to survive. The snake presently on the counter had attacked Korren, and lost; but it had ruined most of his rations in the scuffle, and so the mouse had had roast snake for his supper.
Korren's nervousness was due chiefly to the fact that most beasts looked down upon this taste of his, especially after the days of Gulo the Savage. But eating snake, to him, was no more different than eating shrimp was for the otters, or eels for the pygmy shrews. However, since he was used to being scorned for his practice, Korren chopped up the meat quickly, and dumped it in the pot, along with the proper herbs and the right amount of water. Cautiously, the young fieldmouse watched over the mixture, keeping his emerald tinted eye on the door as he stirred it.
Nobeast was there, apparently, but the red-haired fieldmouse was not about to take his chances. Slipping in on tippaw, he heaved an obviously heavy haversack onto the counter, and made a more thorough inspection. Nobeast ransacking the pantries; nobeast in a drunken stupor in the cabinet; nobeast sleeping nearby any doors. Good, the coast was clear.
Korren returned to the counter, where he opened the haversack and laid most of its contents out. There lay the remains of a sizable young adder, minus the head, bones, half of the meat, and all the organs, including the poison glands. The remainder of the meat was expertly flayed and cleaned, and no blood seeped from it onto the counter.
The expert who did this was, surprisingly, none other than the oddly-colored young mouse. It was an old family recipe; his grandfather, a great mouse chieftain in a region near the Borderlands, had lived in prime snake territory. Snake had been cooked as a primary source of protein, and turned out to be quite tasty. Even his father, the nomadic outcast, had cherished the dish, for, when a beast lives off of the land, he eats what he must to survive. The snake presently on the counter had attacked Korren, and lost; but it had ruined most of his rations in the scuffle, and so the mouse had had roast snake for his supper.
Korren's nervousness was due chiefly to the fact that most beasts looked down upon this taste of his, especially after the days of Gulo the Savage. But eating snake, to him, was no more different than eating shrimp was for the otters, or eels for the pygmy shrews. However, since he was used to being scorned for his practice, Korren chopped up the meat quickly, and dumped it in the pot, along with the proper herbs and the right amount of water. Cautiously, the young fieldmouse watched over the mixture, keeping his emerald tinted eye on the door as he stirred it.