Enemies worked side by side, smelling their hatred for each other, not off-center. The fruit contained such energy that anything other than eating it was alien. Nothing altered the vital canons of those who knelt and sipped reverently. The transparent fruit was about to disappear. The orange night arrived at noon, at the first lunar crossing, and before the second, there would be nowhere to lick. The turn schedule already indicated the climb, the torrent could be heard. The tide flooded the fields and advanced at colossal speed through the great valley. With the ultimate task accomplished, they would all devour each other. Another cycle would begin. The sexes were indistinguishable. Similar bodies. The physical kept the secret in flux. The color of the the blood streams gave the mating fee. Horns, legs, hair, udders, limbs, fangs. They did not matter. Blood ruled.
