Chapter 23: "Motter" and "Mogg"

Joan forced himself to suppress his fear of the gray giant and hurriedly replied, "Yes! Yes! You're very 'Mote', extremely 'Mote'!" The gray giant nodded in satisfaction, then suddenly pointed at Joan and shouted, "Mote!"

Joan was momentarily stunned, then shook his head in dismay and sighed, "How am I 'Mote'? I'm completely 'Moge'..." The gray giant shook his head, solemnly insisting that Joan absolutely deserved to be called 'Mote', and that the crocodile—which was now well and truly dead—was the real 'Moge'.

Not wanting to argue with such a simple-minded creature, and realizing that the giant meant him no harm for now, Joan allowed himself a small measure of relief and focused on freeing his right leg, which was sinking ever deeper into the mire. The gray giant watched his struggle, stroking his chin, then suddenly grinned, reached out with an arm thicker than Joan's waist, and with astonishing gentleness, scooped him up and set him down on dry ground.

Joan breathed a sigh of relief and quickly thanked the big fellow for his help. Seeing only confusion on the giant's face, he realized the creature didn't understand human speech, so he simply gave him a thumbs-up and praised him as 'Mote'.

This, the gray giant understood. He thumped his chest, looking quite pleased.

Unsure what to call this terrifying yet simple-hearted monster, Joan glanced at his grayish-white skin and casually gave him a nickname.

"I don't know what to call you, so I'll just call you Gray," Joan said, drawing the letters of the name on the muddy ground and trying to teach the giant how to pronounce it. Unfortunately, the giant was truly hopeless; it took all of Joan's effort just to get him to repeat the name, and as for writing, it was a lost cause.

"This big guy isn't even as smart as Jamie," Joan muttered to himself, then wrote his own name on the ground for Gray to remember.

A glance at the sky told him the sun was already setting in the west. Joan hoisted his pack and waved at Gray. "I'm going home now. Goodbye."

He hadn't gone far before he heard heavy footsteps behind him. Gray was following.

"Are you coming home with me?" Joan wondered aloud. Before he could react, the gray giant caught up, swept him up in a huge arm, slung him over his shoulder, and strode off into the depths of the swamp.

"Hey! Gray, stop!"
"Where are you taking me?"
"Put me down! I want to go home!"
"This isn't very 'Mote' of you!"
...

No matter what Joan said, Gray ignored him, striding rapidly through the mire until, in the blink of an eye, they disappeared into the heart of the swamp.

...

Gray's strength was astonishing; no matter how hard Joan struggled, he couldn't even budge a single finger of the giant. He had no choice but to rack his brains for an escape plan.

Gray ran through the swamp for an hour without so much as breaking a sweat, finally slowing as they approached a small island deep within the marsh. Leaping onto the island, Gray set Joan down, parted the hanging vines with practiced ease, and revealed a narrow, winding path.

Squeezing sideways into the path, Gray turned to carefully cover the entrance with vines before proceeding. Soon, a bare rocky hill appeared ahead, a seven-foot-high cave mouth hewn into the sunlit face of its cliff.

Gray sniffed at the entrance, ensuring there were no other animal scents, then crawled inside, reassured. Afternoon sunlight slanted into the cave, dispelling the darkness and illuminating its broad interior.

Gray set Joan down, patted his back, and gestured for him to rest. Then he turned and left.

Joan looked around, confirming that this was a natural cavern. The walls were rough and uneven, the floor thickly padded with dry grass and leaves to keep out moisture. It was tidy and the air reasonably fresh—clearly, this was Gray's home.

Soon, heavy footsteps sounded outside the cave: Gray had returned, dragging the crocodile he’d slain earlier. Sitting outside the entrance, he started to work, gripping the crocodile's jaws in both hands and tearing with such force that his bulging muscles split the five-foot-long beast in two, head to tail. Blood and entrails splattered everywhere, filling the air with a nauseating stench.

Gray wrinkled his nose, seemingly relishing the rich scent, while Joan turned pale with horror at the grisly scene.

Gray scooped out the entrails, then tore off the skin. Wrapping skin and guts in a huge aquatic leaf, he tossed the bundle into a nearby ditch. The remaining pink flesh, still bloody, he devoured raw, gnawing with gusto as blood trickled down his chin.

His appetite was enormous; in under two minutes, he’d stripped half the crocodile to bare bones. Licking his fingers, he grabbed the other half, and just as he was about to dig in, he remembered Joan and offered him a chunk of bloody meat.

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry," Joan said quickly, shaking his head.

Gray pushed the meat toward him, gesturing at it and repeating, "Mote! Mote!"

Joan guessed he was praising the crocodile meat and inviting him to try some. Not wanting to anger the simple-minded giant, Joan drew his knife and cut off a small piece, forcing himself to chew it despite his revulsion.

Raw crocodile was tough and reeked of blood; Joan nearly vomited, but he dared not show his disgust in front of Gray. Swallowing with difficulty, he decided he wouldn’t eat raw meat again, no matter how much Gray urged him.

"Gray, I can't digest this kind of food," he explained as best he could with gestures. Gray seemed only half-comprehending, his six yellow eyes filling with confusion and regret.

As night fell, the cave grew cold. February nights were still bitter, and Joan's hands and feet went numb with the chill. Forced to his feet, he asked Gray, "Can I make a fire?"

Gray didn't seem to understand, but showed no displeasure.

Taking that as tacit approval, Joan stepped outside. Gray instantly grew anxious, trailing him closely, as if afraid he would run away.

Seeing this, Joan gave up any thought of escape for now. Instead, he gathered dry wood from the island and brought it back to the cave. Gray, not quite understanding but perhaps eager to imitate or simply helpful by nature, struck down an entire tree with a single blow and dragged it to the cave entrance, dropping it at Joan's feet.