“I’m fine, just tie it off,” said The Fat Old Lady as her comrade yanked firmly on the skin dress she wore, trying to stretch the lengths near the ears to tie it off around the back of her neck.
The dress was slipping recklessly and if it fell away from her face, it would spell catastrophe. The naked man had cut through the fabric and into the muscles on her cheek. Most of it was leathered like the heel of a mountain climber’s feet.
Several hundred million years will do that to muscle.
The two comrades were huddled just outside their camp. They weren’t sure of their next move. They could see the cages in the centre and inside one; the naked man lying on his back convulsing under the sun. They were drying him. They would thirst every molecule in his body until the dress was conditioned enough to be cut and worn.
“Is he dancing dear?” asked The Pudgy Old Lady.
“No, he’s not. This one is Famined. Poisoned meat” said The Fat Old Lady.
“What does that mean?” said The Pudgy Old Lady.
“The dress will disease unless we get it off the naked one soon. But it must be through ritual or it will just wither” said The Fat Old Lady.
“Do you know how? I mean, alone?” asked The Pudgy Old Lady.
The Fat Old Lady grunted sharply and her pudgy comrade understood immediately the sentence of her expression and looked obsequiously upon her esteemed comrade, retreating into the relenting acceptance of her willful submission.
In the near distance something stirred.
“It’s Mother,” said The Pudgy Old Lady.
“Shut up. See what they are doing first” said The Fat Old Lady.
“They’re clothing him,” said The Pudgy Old Lady.
”The ritual will commence shortly, we have to act fast. I’ll need you to help me. I don’t have enough strength. I will speak with the Elemental Ladies, create a diversion. I need to know if they have my blade. You break him out. But bind him first. He’s a wriggly one. I’m not losing my dress again” said The Fat Old Lady.
“What will you say to them? What if they have your blade? What if they know you hunted without permission? What if they de…”
“Stop being so…” screamed The Fat Old Lady holding the last word, unable to finish her sentence; beset upon by purging frustration.
The Pudgy Old Lady tied off the fleshy ends of the skin dress and the feeling returned to The Fat Old Lady’ toes.
“Wait for my signal,” said Fat as she walked into the camp alone.