The Ascension of Man Part Four

Yay gratuitous violence!
Even better, badly written gratuitous violence!
Part Six, thank Zeus, will be the last part... that's not a promise

Arden spent the next several days walking. He did not walk quickly, but there was nevertheless a certain determination and inevitability in his step. With each step he took in his directionless quest he felt he was one step closer to breaking down the businessman within him, which had proved itself so frighteningly powerful that one afternoon. But he had had no more nightmares, and in fact remembered dreams had left him altogether. All he thought and saw and slept was the forest.

But man cannot live simply on thought and sight and sleep and Arden realized one morning that he had not eaten. He had not brought food with him. The naturalisticly inclined part of him had believed that he would forage and hunt for food and his sensible self had determined that he could live a week without food if it in fact came to that. But the latter was ill or dead or missing at the very least and Arden, as confident in this new self he had discovered as he was hungry, decided to see about food.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket, the only accoutrement he had allowed himself, and set about sharpening the tip of the stick that he'd been using as a walking staff. He discovered rather quickly that the process was slightly more difficult than Hollywood had led him to believe, but eventually he had produced a "spear." In fact, he rather thought that this staff of his was a good one. So the hunt begins.

There were no shortage of small forest animals in the Park and when Arden had merely been walking around, stomach full and spirits high, he was struck by the frequency of his sightings. But now that his mind had turned to business, as it were, there wasn't a rabbit or squirrel in sight. Now that he had a goal in mind, a firm, unalterable purpose, his patience worn thin. He cursed the breakneck speed of modern life that made him this way and tried to calm himself while staying alert.

This proved to be a significant challenge mentally and it exhausted him to a point where he almost didn't see the rabbit that scurried over to him. It was large and white and absolutely adorable and had grown to trust the wealthy businessmen and retirees that ate store-bought food and slept in big, expensive tents. The bunny was practically on top of Arden when he stabbed it.

Arden had struck with all his might, but he felt a great deal of resistance from the tough, lean muscles of the rabbit. Still, he'd pierced it deep enough to get it stuck on there and tear through whatever arteries and veins are vital to rabbits, so it was just a matter of how quickly it would die. The rabbit began its death shakes, and Arden almost lost control of the staff and the its back muscles spasmed repeatedly. He turned away his eyes. The torture was too much for him to watch, but he felt the warm life-blood of his victim splatter on him wave after wave until... stillness.

The easy part was over. Arden now turned to the slow and nauseating task of skinning the poor animal. First he took out his knife. Then he vomited. He turned towards the rabbit and begin cutting off the head. He continued cutting even as he had to turn back around and continue vomiting. The dried blood on his hands was cold and he suddenly realized how miserable he was. But what could he do except keep cutting?