The Nature of Predators - Omnivore Miniseries (3/8)

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Memory transcription subject: Wullara, Iftali Priesthood of the Consecrated Order

Date [standardized human time]: November 9, 2136

The first humans on Jild arrived today, dumped on our shores by the shipload. When the dust settled, Sulean leadership expressed outrage on our behalf. They pledged support, despite believing we were predators; But their misguided ‘assistance’ was flying in brutish primates, who wanted bodies to throw at the Kolshians.

I hadn’t left my home in days, and found little motivation to partake in normal activities. The only thing that brought me comfort and guidance were the scriptures. How could I cast aside teachings that improved my life? There was still no concrete proof that the Iftali were predators.

The faith was under attack from our entire society, but all skepticism was speculation. With everyone jumping to conclusions, I needed the conviction to retain my beliefs. This sudden shift in viewpoints hinged on multiple assumptions. Chief Nikonus hadn’t said that all religion was created by Kolshians; our faith could be the product of coincidence.

We’re not a monotheistic faith, like the Cult of Inatala or the Great Protector’s followers, I mused. Does nobody suspect how the humans pounced on this theory, and swooped in to our turf?

Despite public hostility toward clergy, my congregation longed for direction. The texts I received, expressing shock and confusion, spoke to a desire for reassurance. There was supposed to be a sermon today, and I intended to deliver it. It was time to pick myself up off the ground, for the community’s benefit.

“Priest Wullara! She’s over there!” a voice called from the crowd.

I jolted out of my thoughts, striking a confident pose. The masses were grouping outside the building, rather than moving indoors. Suleans were back in the mix, with a few serving as agitators. Our sister species were the ones orchestrating a ‘protest’, and calling for the Order’s destruction.

Zilba, my outreach coordinator, pranced up to me. “Wullara, you should get out of here. They don’t recognize me, but these people want to tear the church down.”

“Because of assumptions and fear-mongering,” I responded. “I am disappointed how many abandon their faith, at the slightest trial. These Iftali need a priest to set a righteous example.”

“No! They’re angry, and they’ve been listening to the predators’ calls for blood. You’re serving yourself up as a target.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ve served this community for years. I’m one of them, not a target.”

“Suit yourself. I can’t help you then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Zilba’s pink fur shivered with unease, before she receded into the crowd. The mob surged around me with wild expressions, just as they had when the interview aired. I talked reason into them then; this required the same demonstration of tact. The media had reinforced the omnivore narrative, since Cilany’s interview dominated every platform.

A Sulean bowled me over with his antlers, spitting in my face. Pain seared across my chest, and I struggled back to my hooves. Concern flashed in a few gazes, but most of the Iftali cheered. When had they all decided that I was against them? Had they forgotten my dedication to them over the years?

“Deceiver! Wullara, you know what you did,” the Sulean jeered. “You’re one of the elite, helping the Kolshians control our world!”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I am on your side. I’ve always been there to counsel each of you. I was the first to help with natural disasters, and charitable—”

“That’s all a front for your indoctrination. How many Iftali have you tricked into following your rituals?”

An Iftali voice piped up. “You never told us we were omnivores!”

“You lied to us, even after Cilany’s interview. You’re here to do it again,” another practitioner added.

Protestors gathered pebbles, while a hoof was slammed into my teeth. A burning sensation sliced into my gums, and blood trickled against my tongue. The crowd jostled me, before shoving me to the ground. Several Iftali stomped in my general direction, and sharp pain spread through my ribcage. Each crushing blow wreaked havoc on my tissues and organs.

What have I ever done to deserve this?

The Sulean agitator retrieved a rope, and wrapped it around my neck. I thrashed as he dragged me backward, tying the restraint around a tree stump. This left me immobilized, at the people’s mercy. Iftali lined me up with projectiles, beaning me in the temples from close range. All I could feel was betrayal, through the dizzy pounding in my head.

“S-stop! Why are you doing this?!” I wailed. “I love all of you. I do!”

The crowd was unmoved, as they scrounged up more projectiles to throw. Loose bricks joined the arsenal, and protestors darted in to re-use objects. Anguish registered in every area of my body, as the rope chafed at my throat. I could feel my vision tunneling; fear overcame my frayed senses. I didn’t want to die…especially without the surety of rebirth.

One Iftali had found a flamethrower somewhere. The device must’ve been brought by a former exterminator, who was disgruntled by the news. The mob cheered as the incendiary weapon approached me. There wasn’t a more painful death, but I was helpless to escape my fate. My last moments were going to be anguish, with every nerve ending boiled.

Without any warning, the flamethrower-wielder balked. A shadow stretched in front of my form, long and lanky; unmistakably a tailless biped. There was only one two-legged species without a tail, to my knowledge. A human stepped in front of me, and its binocular eyes stared down the crowd. The angry horde quieted, as their instincts leapt into overdrive.

The Iftali with the flamethrower gulped. “G-get out of the…way. Wullara is a m-manipulator. Used us…for p-power.”

“You could do to observe a teaching of my religion.” The predator’s voice was low and guttural, and it jabbed an unflinching finger at the crowd. Its black attire emphasized its affinity for darkness. “Let the one who is without sin throw the first stone.”

I coughed, desperately trying to break the bindings. The human intervened because I was a gift-wrapped meal; it wanted me for its own sinister purposes. It didn’t care about the threat the large crowd posed. Terrans relished the idea of contesting prey, and engaging in a fight.

The Sulean agitator took several steps back. “You’re protecting a false prophet? A Kolshian puppet?”

“I’m standing up for my morals. Is a painful execution your idea of a fair trial?” The primate shook its head. “Don’t feed the Federation’s narrative that you’re uncivilized. You’re better than this. Please, go home.”

Conflicted expressions rippled through the crowd, and my sympathizers trotted away. I could see Zilba among the people fleeing, avoiding my gaze. Not every participant was backing down, however; the outcry for my death was stunning. The Sulean agitator snatched the flamethrower from the paralyzed Iftali, and pointed it at the human.

The predator was unflinching, flashing its teeth at the Sulean. Those dilated eyes were monstrous, even though I could barely see its corneas. Its visceral expression struck a terrifying chord, and the remaining individuals fled in a blind stampede. The human’s visage was enough to send even the hotheads screaming.

None of us have seen one of these things before. They are much worse in person.

The dread flooding my consciousness couldn’t be put into words. The rope rendered me immobile, as my heart rate went haywire. Pink Iftali blood stained the pavement from my wounds, and my aches clamored for attention. I was alone, at the monster’s mercy.

“Help!” My scream was frail, as my paws scrabbled against the pavement. Every muscle felt heavy as lead. “Please! S-someone get me out of here!”

The predator knelt beside me. “Easy. I’m working on it.”

Appetite glistened in the alien’s irises, which were a vibrant green. It studied the knot for a second, and for some reason, used its dexterous fingers to untie me. Perhaps it wanted me to run, so it could have a little fun hunting. I was horrified to realize I was too weak to stand on my own strength.

The metaphysical implications supplied additional despair; human spirits were extinguished ones. Being near this creature for a prolonged time would poison my soul, per the scriptures. Not only would I become its next meal, but it was destroying my chance at a new life too.

I wished I died to the mob, before my life of servitude was erased by a dumb beast.

“You’re hurt pretty bad, and your hospitals are past full capacity,” the human growled. “I’ll see if I can patch you up. My name’s Jordan, if you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” I flinched, as its clammy palms pressed against my fur. “Eat me and g-get it over with, or leave. P-please.”

“You think that…I’m not going to eat you!”

“I d-don’t believe you. You’re s-still here.”

“Normally, I’d leave you alone if you asked. But I’m not going to let you die. Your life overrides your autonomy. Sorry.”

What was this nonsense it was spewing?! This beast must be feigning compassion, just like its kind did with the Venlil. It had no reason to care about my life, and every reason to act on its compulsion to taste my blood. Perhaps it knew that it was damning me?

Jordan attempted to prop me up, but its lean form couldn’t support my weight. Encouraged by its failure, I resisted anew. The predator couldn’t move me anywhere without my compliance. It wasn’t like a creature with those features was a viable ‘doctor’. Feral monkeys didn’t belong on my planet.

“I’d…r-rather die. Go away…please?” I groaned.

The human palmed its sweat-soaked brown hair. “I don’t see any good reason why you wouldn’t want to, you know, not die? I came here to learn about your faith, actually.”

“What?! Learn t-this…about my faith. You’re damned. Being around you poisons my soul t-too, so I won’t be reborn either if I spend long near you.”

“Damned? Because I’m a predator?”

“It’s more…than that. Killing another lifeform contaminates your soul, in direct proportion to the pain caused by your actions. Shit…you d-don’t care.”

“I do, Wullara. Please elaborate.”

“Hmph. Passage to the next life is impossible…if you take too much from the world. Truly poisoned souls, especially p-predators, infect anyone in their vicinity.”

To my bewilderment, Jordan seemed to be listening. “So this soul rot is about taking lives, not being a predator? We don’t have a problem then. Mainstream meat is lab-grown on Earth, which involves no pain, death, or harm to any animal. It’s a cell culture.”

I recoiled in confusion. “T-Technically, that is ethical…I guess. By the scriptures, that’s causing less harm than eating plants.”

“Well, it’s settled; I’m not contagious to you. Let’s go.”

My brain didn’t want to be near the predator, but that argument checked the right boxes. It was remarkable how skilled humans were at deceit; one could back me into a corner with my own dogma. Allegedly, the creatures did have some empathy, which I suspected evolved to track prey. Understanding an enemy was the best way to predict their behavior.

Jordan is sapient, and it might have a soul. If enough generations have passed, the offspring’s curse might’ve subsided, I thought. It…he could feel a full range of emotions, like us.

Jordan lifted me again, and I leaned against him for support. We staggered back toward the church, with the human practically carrying me. Bearing my weight left his gait unsteady. His canines were bared from exertion, which sent my fear chemicals on another dizzy dance. His pallid skin was changing colors, turning to a scalding red.

The predator struggled into the church, dragging me the last steps. Agony flared up in my side, which distracted me from the monster’s touch. I’d have to wash a hundred times to get his sweat and skin cells off my fur! An awful migraine was setting in too, as the result of getting clocked in the head. Fear contributed to my disoriented state; all I wanted was to rest.

Jordan toted me to my meditation room, and hoisted me onto the couch. The human placed his hands on his knees, drawing several wheezing breaths. He surveyed his surroundings, and located the kitchenette in an adjacent room. He combed through the cabinets, before filling a glass with water from the sink. The beast brought hydration to me as well.

My eyelids fluttered, as I gulped down the liquid. “Thanks? Um…why are you doing this?”

“Because you need my help. Do you have a first aid kit?” the alien asked.

I pointed with a hoof, and Jordan located the pack atop a shelf. The human wasted no time smearing my wounds with disinfectant; focus gripped those binocular eyes. He worked on a few sutures, with a comfort level that suggested he’d done this before. The predator even offered me a painkiller, when he noticed me wincing.

“Who are you, and why are you on Jild?” I croaked. “It c-can’t be just to study our religion.”

Jordan put the kit back in its resting place. “I’ll tell you all about myself, after you get some rest. Don’t worry now. I’m going to stay for a bit, and make sure you’re okay.”

My eyes were already closed, despite the dangers of falling asleep around a predator. I didn’t want Jordan to stay here. Receding awareness reminded me that the beast worked up a hearty appetite, carrying me here. Perhaps the next sensation I would feel was human fangs in my throat.

Injured and with no energy to spare, I drifted off into dreamland.

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A/N - Part 3 of the miniseries! Wullara is attacked by an angry mob, who sees the church as an extension of the Kolshians. To her dismay, a human swoops in an rescues her. Who is our religious-minded predator? Will our narrator give Jordan a chance?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!

[Disclaimer: I do not endorse or favoritize any religious beliefs, by the way. Character beliefs are independent of my own]