The Flesh Eaters by L. A. Morse Page B

and is surprised to see a young woman frantically pacing beside the road. She is obviously in some kind of trouble, and looks relieved when he approaches. She asks his assistance, telling an incoherent story that he has difficulty understanding. As he tries to comfort her, a man leaps out of the bushes and plunges a knife into his ribs. At the same time, the woman pulls out a knife and stabs him in his stomach. Before he dies, the man notices the woman’s smile of pleasure as she twists the blade to make a larger wound.
    After the mail has fallen, Sawney Beane and Meg pull the body off the road.
     
    A wagon, drawn by an ancient horse and carrying a middle-aged man and woman, moves slowly on the road. The passengers see something lying in their path. As they draw closer, they see it is a woman, and they hear her groans of pain. Though it seems odd that a lone woman should be in this isolated place, they are concerned about her distress. The man gets off the wagon and goes to her. She lies face down, but as he bends to examine her, the woman suddenly rolls over. The man sees the knife a split second before it pierces his chest and enters his heart. The woman on the wagon starts to scream, but the sound dies on her lips as the man who has crept up behind her springs and cuts her throat.
    Leaving the bodies where they have fallen, Sawney Beane and Meg search the wagon and find blankets, rope, and other provisions.
     
    A well-dressed man on a horse is startled to see an attractive girl blocking his path. Her hair is disheveled; her eyes are wild. Her dress is ripped and reveals most of her shapely breasts. He gets a glimpse of a nipple, which interests him. Concentrating on her anatomy, he pays little attention to what she is saying, or to the fact that his horse is standing under the branches of a large tree. Suddenly a noose drops over his head, tightens around his neck, and he is lifted off his horse. He hears gleeful laughter coming from the tree above him. As he kicks and struggles on the end of the rope, the woman enthusiastically hacks at him with a knife she has taken from under her dress. The last thing he notices before he dies of strangulation is the woman’s breasts, completely uncovered, bouncing as she pokes him with the knife. The vision gives him no satisfaction.
     
    The natural aptitude and enthusiasm of Sawney Beane and Meg for their chosen trade is refined by experience. Their apprenticeship is short; they are soon masters of their craft, highly skilled hunters.
    Sawney Beane and Meg are proud of their skills. They develop a routine for hiding the victim’s body off the road, for selecting which of his possessions they want, and for destroying whatever remains. Horses are chased away or killed, unwanted wagons are pushed over a cliff to smash on the rocks below and be carried away by the tide. When the road is clear, they move the bodies and the booty down the cliff at their leisure. They know the best routes to take and can scramble easily up and down the cliff face.
    In the cave, some items are thrown on a pile and forgotten, others are used to make improvements. Candles provide a dim light in the living area, but cooking pots are not used—the smoke from a fire might be seen. Blankets cover the straw pallets, but a valuable feather mattress molders off to One side. Sawney Beane and Meg have collected many fine garments, but they wear only crude fustian or sackcloth, and wear it until the cloth has almost disintegrated. They have acquired enough to make a home that is more comfortable than most in the kingdom, but their interests and pleasures lie elsewhere.
    The hunt and the kill are the moments when they feel most alive, but they have come to take these pleasures for granted. This is how they live now; for them it is ordinary, normal. They are the hunters, and it is natural to hunt; anything else would be unnatural. Eating the flesh of their victims no longer has special significance. It is natural for