The Gift

The boundary of the aberration wafted carefreely back and forth between air and matter, as if to tease Hammond into believing it wasn’t real at all. There were, however, no doubts in danger of settling: these were Myra’s Wilds, after all. If a formless entity were to pass its way out from the jungle, an explorer such as he would be irresponsible to second-guess their eyes.

Detailed under the entry “Oddity”, the heretofore-unrecorded entity was extensively catalogued in Hammond’s notebook, which he took excessive care of. Within those covers of black leather were meticulously catalogued entries for every animal and plant he had ever discovered in the past two years, as well as hundreds of other entries that expanded on existing knowledge, building on the foundations of those before him. It was how he made his living, and come winter, he would commission another one for his next two years of exploration and discovery.

There were a number of explorers in the wildernesses surrounding the Jungle of Myra, as well as a few daring enough to venture within it, with Hammond himself specialized as more of a biologist. Explorers of Myra were paid well for any discovery or new sample they brought in for cataloguing in Junetown, previously a coal-mining town but now known for the tantalizing, otherworldly wonders of the inscrutable forest. The modest town would occasionally welcome the horse-drawn coaches of important businessmen looking to marvel at the wonders extracted from the entrancing land, setting their hands on unique animals, plants and minerals found nowhere else in the world. On the other hand, it was primarily a research community and welcomed even the barest new information, whether a description of the physical features of some elusive critter, or sketches of an unnatural-looking rock formation. The land was full of mystery just waiting to be unveiled by the prying eyes of the daring, or the desperate for cash.

But however fascinating, Myra’s Jungle was also nightmarishly deadly. If you tried to learn about everything and spread yourself too thin, you might end up dead before you’d made any significant contribution. At least as a specialist, you were inevitably on the bleeding edge of something, somewhere, within a handful of years.

This was proving to be important for Hammond, who was getting desperate. Every time he returned home, he found himself with just enough time to recover before the income from his excursion had dried up. This meant that he could not manage any kind of long-lasting social life. His ideal vision was that every few trips would net him a big catch that would fuel numerous weeks of living at home without needing to go out and work again. A stockpile to strategically drain, to spend time building friendships… finding love. But with his average payment, never could he even spend long enough in town to grow close for genuine friendship, let alone love. Maid or man, he could not welcome into his life, for the curse that was his career and passion.

Today, of course, Hammond was looking at the discovery of a lifetime. In fact, he had been tracking this thing for three months. So as to keep up with it while getting enough sleep, he had half-hour naps throughout his day. This excursion would be long as necessary, since living on the land was free.

The life of the anomaly was casual, like it wasn’t aware of its own strangeness. Of course it couldn’t be, but from the outside, you get the strange impression it should. By all impressions, it wasn’t an animal, a plant, or a rock, and yet to someone as intimately attuned to it as Hammond, it was explicitly an animal. It would brush its way through grasses and undergrowth with what could only be called intent. It climbed trees, and had habits such as to linger in sunbeams that spewed through the canopy of the jungle. It took breaks, and hid when the sound of branches crackled nearby.

It was not animal-like in some ways, obviously. It had no legs on which to move, but in a sense, the transition of its body appeared to reach into the space in front of it, and consequently it was in that space. Sometimes its passage would rustle the bushes it contacted, and other times it filtered through gentler than the breeze. Out in the open, Hammond had to keep a greater distance, simply because he had no understanding of where its eyes were. The best way to describe its body was some mixture of glass and light in constant deformation. It had a passive relationship with gravity, preferring to hover well above the ground. It would baffle the mind of those who had never been deep in Myra’s Jungle if they could see.

Alas, these surprises paled next to what drove Hammond’s fascination the most. The creature, as animals are known to do, would occasionally void itself. Though it had neither apparent bowels nor bladder, it notably left behind the occasional dropping. But they tended not to be droppings whatsoever.

Hammond picked from its trail an egg of fowl, warm - and theoretically live. He used gloves out of an abundance of caution, but he’d held many of these “droppings” before, as weeks ago he could not bear but to test it. The feel, weight and appearance of the things left behind all mimicked seemingly random objects and life. It had left a pile of sand, a rusty crowbar, eggs of various birds and reptiles, and even the actual droppings of other animal species. He wanted to call them “gifts”, but reluctantly chalked it up to his personal sense of humour and determined to find a more suitable name for when he would publish his records. Sometimes though, to him, they were gifts. The rusty crowbar was ignored out of fear, early on, but later a handy knife was dropped, and he carried it with him, using it even on this very day. It behaved entirely as you might expect a knife to behave: It cut objects soft enough, like wood; it chipped on particularly tough objects, like stones. On the outside it was a knife, and on the inside it was a knife. But Hammond could not guarantee that it was a knife that had ever existed until it came out of the Oddity’s business end.

Even when it was acting in a benign manner, the biologist couldn’t help but to be entranced. Following the finishing touches on a long and careful sketch, the man was elated. In a miraculous kindness, it had sat still longer than it ever previously had during the day, allowing Hammond to add in every single detail he saw. Suddenly, his notebook felt as valuable as gold, and when the creature moved again, he was propelled by his enthusiasm.

Following eagerly with spirits soaring, he pondered what he would do with the money when he submitted his findings. He could certainly invest in a few more comforts: thoughts of a better bed for his back, a few more oil lamps to illuminate the stair and halls clearer, or a dedicated tool shed so he could safely learn to craft his own equipment came to mind.

He daydreamt sweetly, but shortly. He knew he could not indulge in what he truly wanted, as the money would not last. He lingered briefly on the thought, but shortly thereafter chased the loneliness from his mind and invigorated himself to his short-term goal. The sun was going down, and he didn’t have the luxury of time for distraction. He had come to believe that it was impossible to capture and turn in the creature, so his reward was bound to be limited, but he would find out everything there is to know, and returning with that knowledge, he would feel the pride that is the reason he loves this job.

As the sun settled further though, the Oddity showed no sign of stopping its trek deeper into the jungle. Hammond was beginning to genuinely worry, as the mortal danger of Myra’s Wilds were not to be ignored. He needed to turn around in time to leave the woods before the night fell. It seemed increasingly unlikely, but what behaviour was being shown to him was new. He had to know more. He had to see where this led. Was he going to find where the creature originates from, where it breeds? Would he find a nest, a food source, or perhaps even a predator luring it? After all, who knows how they feel the world, how they think.

The unnerved biologist clambered over a tree trunk, awkwardly scraping his inner right calf on a branch much sharper and stiffer than trees might possess outside. He knew the danger of the scent of blood. Tearing a piece of his shirt and tying it around his leg, he decided to continue his pursuit, concluding that this wouldn’t keep up for long, since the Oddity began to slow down considerably. As he hopped down the other side of the tree trunk, however, his eyes gaped with shock, and his fresh determination immediately cracked.

Temptingly it sat, blatant bribery on the jungle floor. A hefty stack of hundred-dollar bills, bound in a singular elastic.

His eyes widened, and he hastily picked it up, bare-handed. He flipped through the stack quickly and found that they each were a $100 denomination. He lifted it, lowered it, stared at where it had sat, darted his eyes over his surroundings and stepped in careful circles around the spot that he had found it. He looked like a madman in his shock, and eventually settled still, to soak it in. He was not easily managing his emotions, and observed the Oddity hovering away. Was it for him? Was it… intentional? On occasion he was more in the shoes of a researcher with the creature, distant in mind as well as physically. Other times though, he could swear he was simply tagging along with a familiar friend. Would a friend do this?

Earnestly, the reality of it was stunning - it even smelled like money should. Even though he had seen all kinds of things drop from the aberration before, it had never occurred to Hammond that actual money could appear. It wouldn’t be hard to approximately count, as the edges of the bills were in decent condition. He did not have the time though to count all 200 bills, adding up to $20,000 in his hands, but seeing they were all 100s, he was aware of the terrible decision he would have to make.

Back the way he came, he had safety, prestige, and plenty of cash to grant him all the vacation time he would need to have a social life, to feed and house him for years to come, but unfortunately, it was not even a question that he would likely never find this creature again. It was a statistical impossibility. The thing had never been heard of before; that is simply the scale of the Wilds.

Straight ahead on the aberration’s trail, he could witness the end of a behaviour he had never seen before, and potentially unearth astounding secrets about it, perhaps including information that could help to find it again. On the other hand, it was becoming exceedingly possible that he could die.

He glanced forward, concerned with the gaining distance of the Oddity. He glanced around himself, concerned with the rising smell of blood. He glanced backward, concerned by the setting of the sun. And he glanced at the gift in his sweaty palm.

Leaning on the tree trunk for support, his reluctant legs managed his trembling form. Though he hadn’t cried in years, tears fell silently down his cheeks, for Hammond’s choice did not feel like a choice at all.

Shadows eagerly embraced the trees, whispering life into Myra’s undergrowth.

It couldn’t be much longer. Just a little further, he muttered.