Over The Top: Going Wild

The rest of the day was a misery. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, but I wanted to go home. I was glad to get back to my tent, even though it meant another sleepless night. One good thing; we were going home soon.

The second day started with drizzle. Pundi was up early again, making soup. He sat outside in the wet, bent over the steaming pot. He was talking quietly to it, and dropping powders from little bags. Red powder. Green powder. Yellow powder. I came over to him quietly and he looked up, startled. He quickly gathered the small bags together and placed them in a larger bag.

"Special flavourings" he said.

"What are they"

"Secrets"

"Not poison I hope!" I joked.

"Don't be silly"

Then he smiled.

"I'm giving him what he needs." he said.

When Spotty came out of his tent that morning I had to look twice. He was different.

His hair was longer, and he had long fingernails, like bird's claws. He even walked differently, with a bent back, and his arms hung down. He went straight to the soup and grabbed the pot.

"Mine!" he said, without a glance at either of us.

"Yours" said Pundi, "And please eat all of it."

There was no need for him to say that. Spotty put the pot to his mouth and began to sip. He slurped for about five minutes, continuously, until the pot was tilted right up, then he threw it over the gorse bushes and walked away.

"What's happened to him?" I said.

"He is becoming what he wants to be" said Pundi.

"What do you mean?"

"Just watch!" said Pundi.

I watched. Spotty went over to his tent and sat down. He burped and looked at us from under his mop of hair, then he scratched himself with his foot, the way a dog does. Scratch scratch scratch. Then he growled.