Part VI: Read Something Else First

The man walked for weeks without seeing a thing. It seemed as if the horsemen took with them every shred of what little life had been in that desert. The gila noticed this too, and began to become suspicious of the man's motives. He was beginning to get hungry and had been searching for days for something. Anything. To eat. A storm brewed in the distance to the east. In fact, a storm brewed to the west. Actually, the man stopped for a moment and scrunched his face in thought. He looked to his left. And his right. Then in front of him and quickly spun around to his back. The storm surrounded him on all sides. Lightning struck and thunder rumbled far off in the distance. The man stared straight ahead.
"Perhaps we should set up camp or something."
The gila glanced up at him but the man's eyes never left the horizon ahead. A little unnerved, as the man had never before attempted to set up any kind of shelter, the gila simply set his eyes on whatever it was the man was staring at. The man took a step forward. The gila followed suit. Then another step. And another. The gila should have known the man didn't mean what he said. Why should he stop now?
Suddenly a loud roar quickly brought the monster back into focus. He pinned himself to the man's shoe and frantically searched for the source of the sound. There, in front of the duo, were two chain posts. Where had they come from? They certainly hadn't been there before. Connected to each chain post was a steel chain. Connected to each chain was a steel collar. One collar wrapped around the neck of a small lamb, laying down calmly against the desert floor. The other, however, restrained a large lion, fighting with all its enormous might to free itself from its bondage to get within reach of the lamb. The man and consequently, the gila, were quite closer to the lion than the lamb was, but the beast paid them no mind. It wanted one thing, and one thing only. The man stared at the ground, at the chain post that tethered the cat to the ground. It wasn't holding. Slowly, the post pulled out of the ground, angling itself towards the lion and its prey. Inch by inch, the silver shaft of steel wrenched free of earth, bringing the predator's deadly claws closer to the throat of the oblivious lamb. With each lunge, each roar, each inch, the lamb was closer to death. It, however, simply lay, watching the means of its inevitable end try desperately to free itself. The post was now nearly a foot longer than the man had initially thought, but still it held. The lion showed no exhaustion, it maniacally lunged towards the helpless lamb, slashing claws and gnashing teeth.
Saliva dripped from the lion's jaws as, with a fire in its eye, it clawed at the ground, pulling the stake further from its position.
The man watched in horror as the lion made one last attempt, pulling the iron stake free from its hold in the earth, and lunging towards the calm lamb. What could he do? He could not be expected to stop the onslaught of a hungry, crazed lion. Especially one that stood taller than he. The animal leapt over the lamb and just as his claws buried into the lamb's flesh, the lamb jumped up, tearing at the lion's mane with its own teeth, pinning the cat to the ground and ripping apart its throat. The lion was instantly still and the man could clearly see his esophagus pulled from its skin. Quick, thick spurts of blood measured the lion's slowing heartbeat as the lamb remained hovering above the body. As the trails of blood softened, the lamb bit into the belly of the beast, tearing a long line of hide from the lion's underside, spilling its organs onto the desert floor. With that, the lamb looked up at the man, head spattered with lion blood, and let out a loud baaa. Upon which the lamb closed its eyes and fell limp to the earth. The man stood shocked. Eyes wide and mouth slightly open, he couldn't move. The gila, however, saw a grand opportunity. He worked his way over to the carcass and gorged himself on whatever smelled to his liking. He was hungry. This meal was a godsend.