by Gemino- » Thu Apr 26, 2012 2:17 pm
Cog-D3-14-Honey Badger
It feels like only seconds had passed when the young, black-haired tribute stirs. But his blue eyes, somewhat sharpened in their vision as the light's grown dim, reckognizes instantly that some time has passed. Cog's eyes then flit to his surroundings, mouth opening to take in a flood of scents. There's been some other tributes that had passed right by him, he reckons, but that must have been a while ago, for the scent was stale. Despite the harsh scent of the mutts that were absolutely everywhere, Cog finds it safe enough to dig his clawed fingers into the ground and pull himself, slowly, from under the lion. He has to stop several times; his energy almost completely sapped from all the running and attacking he'd been doing. But he manages it eventually, grinding his teeth and straining his exhausted muscles a few more inches, before he collaspes again. His shoulder wound begins to bleed- not from the severety of the wound, but from the exertion. Then he'd wait, staring at his navy blue bag for several minutes, before he could try again. After what seems like hours of attempting, Cog yanks his feet free from under the lion's massive corpse, and collapses on his side again.
The badger tribute doesn't dare leave the corpse just yet, though. Oh no, instead his curls up beside it- it was still a little warm, and digs into his pack to take inventory. A loaf of bread- the fluffy, capitol kind, not the hard little ration biscuits back home- a package of salted crackers, some dried beef, gear suited for underwater, a gas mask, a sleeping bag and last, some herbs. Cog wrinkled his nose at the underwater supplies- he had no idea how to swim, so he simply shoved it back into his pack. He inspected the gasmask carefully, before placing it beside his pack. He's put it on after he'd eaten, just to be cautious. There would be a /reason/ the Gamemakes included gasmasks in the supplies, and he couldn't overlook that. The herbs he sniffed hopelessly- no idea what to do with them, he put them back as well. Then, the sleeping bag- which upon further inspection proved to be able to reflect his body heat, he put in the pack as well, but in a place where it was very easy to reach. Lastly, the food- Cog wouldn't dare waste it now, not with all this lion meat there, fresh and mouthwatering, so he tore off a small hunk of bread to go with his soon-to-be meal, and closed his pack up.
Not bothering to watch for other tributes, the young boy's long, claw like fingers tore away the hide of the lion's thigh with not /too/ much difficulty, even though his fingers were aching by the time he had torn the fresh meat off. Cog wasted no time tearing into the meal, his oversized, sharp teeth were made to tear through flesh, so he had no problem chewing and digesting the rough, sinewy meat of the lion.
He eats it raw, devours the portion of bread he'd lain out for himself, and as a last minute thought, tears off part of his pantleg, up to one knee. He then tears that in two, and wraps up a portion of lion meat in the first swath of fabric, using the second to wrap around it again so the blood didn't drip through when he put it in his pack. Full and now with somewhat renewed energy, Cog wiped the blood from his mouth and fit the gasmask on, that sat somewhat awkwardly around his jaw, but it still fit okay. Pack slung over his shoulder, Cog did a check to make sure he had everything, before turning and pelting away into the jungle once more. The male tribute would see how much more ground he could cover before turning in for the night.