[Jungle Provides] The Carver

People often forget they're animals. Surrounded by the trappings of civilization, it's all too easy to lose yourself, to grow twisted and stunted into some unnatural shape. There's elegance, form and function and design in the shelters of chiseled rock and smoothed wood.

It's only in the wild one can truly awaken, where the truth cannot be masked by walls and hearths. It is only when you see your comrades wretch their life away between groans of agony that you can see even the plants fight to survive. It is only when the sound of a distant scream and bones snapping sings in your ears in the black of night, that you realize you are food. It is only when the sobs of your compatriots become grating that you realize they are weak. And it is only with the thunder of blood in your ears following that first kill that you realize you are strong.

Some say nature is cruel. I say it is fair. One life for another. Death begets life.

Through their flesh, I am sustained. Through their hide, I am resilient. Through their bone, I am dangerous.

People often forget they're animals. I remember. And I will not hesitate to butcher any beast to survive. This is how things were meant to be. For as surely as the jungle kills, the jungle provides.