I was moping around when one of the Little People tapped me on the back. It was the one with the limp.
"What do you want?"I asked.
The tiny man - if it was a man - in the blue-hooded robe rubbed his stomach with his hands. This was the sign that he and his brothers were hungry.
"You just had breakfast,"I said.
He rubbed his stomach again.
"It's too early for lunch."
He rubbed his stomach again.
I knew that this would go on for hours if I let it. He would patiently follow me around, rubbing his stomach, until I agreed to go hunt for food for him.
"All right,"I snapped. "I'll see what I can find. But I'm on my own today, so if I don't come back with a full bag, tough."
He rubbed his stomach again.
I spit on the ground and took off.
I shouldn't have gone hunting. I was really weak. I could still run faster than a human, and I was stronger than most kids my age, but I wasn't superfit or extrastrong anymore. Mr. Crepsley had said I'd be dead within a week if I didn't drink human blood, and I knew he'd spoken the truth. I could feel myself wasting away. A few more days and I wouldn't be able to pull myself out of bed.
I tried catching a rabbit but wasn't fast enough. I worked up a sweat chasing it and had to sit down for a few minutes. Next, I went looking for roadkill but couldn't find any dead animals. Finally, because I was tired and half afraid of what would happen if I returned to camp empty-handed (the Little People might decide to eat me!) , I headed for a field full of sheep.
They were grazing peacefully when I arrived. They were used to humans and barely lifted their heads when I entered the field and walked among them.
I was looking for an old sheep, or one that looked sick. That way I wouldn't have to feel so lousy about killing it. I finally found one with skinny, trembling legs and a dazed expression, and decided she'd do. She looked as though she didn't have long to live, anyway.
If I'd had my full powers, I would have snapped her neck and she would have been dead in an instant, without any pain. But I was weak and clumsy and didn't twist hard enough the first time.
The sheep began to bleat with agony.
She tried running away, but her legs wouldn't carry her. She fell to the ground, where she lay bleating miserably.
I tried breaking her neck again but couldn't. In the end I grabbed a stone and finished the job. It was a messy, horrible way to kill an animal, and I felt ashamed of myself as I grabbed its back legs and hauled it away from the flock.
I'd almost reached the fence before I realized somebody was sitting on top of it, waiting for me. I dropped the sheep and looked up, expecting an angry farmer.
But it wasn't a farmer.
It was R.V.
And he was mad as hell.
"How could you?"he shouted. "How could you kill a poor, innocent animal so cruelly?"
"I tried killing her quickly,"I said. "I tried snapping her neck, but I couldn't. I was going to leave her when I couldn't do it, but she was in pain. I thought it was better to finish her off than leave her to suffer."
"That's real big of you, man,"he said sarcastically.
"Do you think you'll get the Nobel Peace Prize for that?"
"Come on, R.V.,"I said. "Don't be angry. She was sick. The farmer would have killed her anyway. Even if she'd lived she would have been sent to a butcher in the end."
"That don't make it right,"he said angrily. "Just because other people are nasty, it don't mean you should be nasty, too."
"Killing animals isn't nasty,"I said. "Not when it's for food."
"What's wrong with vegetables?"he asked. "We don't need to eat meat, man. We don't need to kill."
"Some people need meat,"I disagreed. "Some can't live without it."