crocodile dundee

Ume, perhaps unsurprisingly, has been left rather unaffected by all the changes his homeland has recently undergone. it’s not that he hasn’t noticed, exactly, but more that the changes have seemed largely inconsequential to him. what does it matter who leads his pack, or what they’re called? so long as his family stays together and he has access to the same resources as before, the boy is more concerned with exploring the world beyond his home territory and gaining as much knowledge as possible. well…a particular kind of knowledge.

he found the creature down by the lakeshore, a long, scaled mass of twisted limbs and snapping teeth. at first, Ume had kept his distance and observed from afar, watching as the creature thrashed and spat and lashed that long, spiked tail. but as the day drags on, it grows less and less spirited. and now, as dusk falls, Ume steps out from his hiding place and approaches the creature at a cautious half-trot, eyeing it with eager interest. blood streams from its gaping about, pooling into the dirt in crimson rivulets it’s eyes are dull and unseeing, it’s flank still where previously it’d lifted and fallen in sharp, desperate breaths. lifting a stick from the ground, Ume gives it a few experimental pokes, then nods when it doesn’t so much as stir. dead, or very soon to be. excitement - or the closest the boy comes to excitement - stirs in his bely, and Ume begins a disjointed hum as he circles the fallen creature, wondering where he should start.