He took his head out of the river, and shook and the water began to clean the drops of blood that dribbled from his face onto his body he shook, till his head began to answer back in pain. He trembled, and felt the heat flowing inside his body. He stepped out of the river, covered his clean body with a shawl, and cleaned his face with a cloth more tight. Short while after he had started walking, he tried to feel some forgetfulness. He could recall nothing, but that he was tightly clothed he felt irritated. Removing the cloth on his head, he started to feel better.
He could see whole now. He started to walk, the flow of heat had stopped going round his body, and he had started it to feel vaguely different, rather a sensation of hunger had caught his body, some kind of dry feeling in his stomach. He could feel no more than little pain. He started to run, and search. He passed the plains, passed into the forest, the forest of dry stems, and un-leaved trees, with not even a fruitlet, rather they held filth, and sand, which were carried by the warm wind that blew into ones eyes, and ears, pricking into them. He watched the trees wave, and the weak birds, that sat on the dire branches of those year - old trees.
He came near a tree, and started to smile. He pushed back the stem, and grabbing a branch, climbed up. The birds squeaked weakly, and scattered away. He slipped, began to fall, and with a failed try of grabbing a small twig, and a shriek, the soil blasted upwards over his weight, as he fell.
He stepped, up again on a low branch, and climbed. He tiptoed up, and climbed onwards. The wind blowing, making him electrify. His eyes could see wings on a small body that had the claw clinched to a branch. His hands could feel the pain, but he believed that his tolerance would dominate over to its extremity. Placing his hands came close to the bird, avoiding even a bleak noise the bird slipped from the twig, and glided away, leaving him stumbling, while he began collapsing, all of the gust of wind through his hair, and him regretting, the bird flown off, and the land banged up, he groaning, and whining, fallen on the land.
He kept laying beholding the blue sky above. He was so obsessive in his intension, he could certainly forget every land that he had forgotten to, and every pain.
Indeed, there should be other birds, on other branches, of other trees, that should be not so very difficult to catch. He thought confidently, and then turned to other possibilities,
I should do this before night falls, and before I, searching for prey, shall be hunted.
He crawled, and searched, with his eyes, all around the scene. He could see birds, but flying with speed unimaginable, and high above. Hiding under a rock, was a weak, injured bird, wandering around itself. He touched it, to see it was grounded, or could fly. The bird couldnt make a move, but just kept trembling. He crawled back, and picked up what he thought to be a stone, was a small fruit. He came near the bird, pushed his hand back, and smashed it to the little body. Blood splattered, to his face. He cut the body open, and began licking, and chewing, so ravenously, for to satisfy his hunger, he kept chomping, and grinding. He could feel the pain, but also feel the fulfillment. He crawled ahead, then got up, leaving the skin, and the bones.
He ran to the river, and dived, He took his head out of the river, and shook and the water began to clean the drops of blood that dribbled from his face onto his body.