“The meat looks good,” I agreed, taking over the shoulder and rib area, which needed a stronger hand. Everything on the creature looked healthy and well-fed, which didn’t fit with how it acted. “I wonder why this creature was acting sluggishly.”
“Maybe it was having an off day,” Pearl suggested, followed by another chorus of her musical laughter.
I chuckled at her words as I stripped away the skin over the shoulder and ribcage. It was messy work despite the behia bleeding out quickly. I’d finished with the shoulder, taking several chunks of meat under Pearl’s direction and began to cut away the flesh over the ribcage when a pinprick of light caught my eye. There, in the midst of the marbled meat, was a small cylindrical hole. Not something random or naturally caused like a gore or tear, but compact and perfectly round, like the tip of a blade or thick needle. I followed the trajectory of the puncturethrough the layer of fat, through the marbled pink meat, and deeper, straight into the lung.
“No wonder the animal acted strangely,” I murmured, moving from the lung outward to cement my theory. “Something punctured its lung.”
“What happened?” Pearl paused in her butchering, wiping the sheen of sweat from her face with a forearm. “Do you think something attacked it?”
“The behia have no natural predators on this moon.” I glanced around, the sudden sensation of being watched making my blood tingle. I knew the Baron used drones to monitor the contest and my ears caught the faint hum of a machine high overhead. I still glanced about, ensuring our safety before continuing. “Jala had the herd transplanted here, used solely for supplying the space station with meat.”
“Maybe one of the other groups tried to kill it, and it got away?” Pearl suggested, her eyes darting around the landscape like she expected to catch sight of the others.
“No, the other groups hunt past that ridge.” I jerked my chin toward an outcropping visible in the distance.
“How do you know that?” She gaped at me.
I tapped an ear with my least bloody finger, causing Pearl to roll her eyes with a huff.
“Besides,” I continued. “The hole is too perfectly formed to be made by anything natural, like a stick or another behia’s tentacle. And it seems to be recent.”
“What are you saying?” A crease grew between her brows, pale eyes intent.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s just odd.”
We finished butchering the behia in silence, carrying the meat back to the skiff and storing it in the small cold locker at the back. The onboard water purifying system had a hose attachment that allowed us to clean up and slake our thirst.
“Now, what to cook? I could make steak tartare or grilled steak, but something tells me that wouldn’t be unique enough for the judges.” Pearl propped against the side of the skiff as I finished rinsing the blood from my clothes. Thankfully, the Vaktaire leather she and I wore was waterproof, and the gore washed away easily.
“It would not.” I agreed. “Most eat behia meat grilled over an open flame.”
“If only I had some vegetables,” she mused, tapping her chin with a finger.
“Vegetables?”
Pearl glanced at me, shocked that I asked. “You know, vegetables. Stuff that comes from plants.”
“I know what vegetables are,” I chuckled. To prove my point, I walked to a tuft of purple grass and yanked it from the ground. At the roots hung a long purple tuber as long as my hand.
“What is that?” Her eyes grew round with excited anticipation.
“A mrkva, they grow wild here,” I told her, bringing the tuber back to the skiff and using the hose to rinse away the dirt.
Pearl could barely contain herself while I cleaned the plant, barely waiting until I finished before slicing off a section of the root and cramming it into her mouth.
“Oh my gosh, it tastes like a cross between celery and a turnip,” she squealed happily. “Are there more like this... different kinds of plants?”
“Several if you know what to look for.” I loved how happy my words made her. Strong, no-nonsense Pearl was beautiful. Happy, smiling Pearl was utterly breathtaking.
We wandered around for over an hour, foraging for plants and taste enhancements Pearl could use. We found the long, pink tufted sipel-aglio grass that Pearl said tasted like onionand garlic. Small houba nuts, she decided, could stand in for something called mushrooms. She got the most excited over the blue fruits of the rajce tree that Pearl claimed were a perfect match for an Earth fruit called tomatoes. Even small invasive weeds made her happy as she likened them to Earth herbs... specifically parsley and thyme. By the time we finished, the skiff was so packed with plants that I worried Pearl might have to sit in my lap on the trip back to the shuttle. Not that I would have minded.
I finished stuffing an armload of rajce fruit into the cold locker, turning to call Pearl when my blood ran cold. She stood only a few feet away, hand outstretched toward some tall red grass with white tuffs.
“Pearl, stop!”
She jumped and froze at my yell, turning to glare at me. “What’s the matter? You scared the shit out of me.”
I grabbed a container of water and jogged to her side.
