The bird had taken far too long to catch but you needed the read its entrails to help you figure out your next move. In all the years since the oceans had fled and returned in a series of cataclysmic tsunamis that all but wiped the world clean, entrails had always led you to food, shelter and safety.
Birds were becoming scarcer in the last few months, whether that was due to you having sailed too far from what little land was left or if they were simply dying out as well, was hard to say. All you knew was that you needed them and they were somehow aware of your ill intent.
This latest one seemed to spite you and want to make things difficult, even in death. Its blood ran towards the horizon but the guts themselves pointed back to where you came from, where you'd been running from ever since your last group had all turned on each other and indulged in cannibalism.
Perhaps they were all dead and there was nobody left to chase after you.
Perhaps you needed to follow the blood and keep on never looking back.
Perhaps you were meant to follow neither and simply die as you were.
The setting sun decided for you as you bunkered down for the night and tethered the boat to the edge of an old rollercoaster. Tomorrow you would see where the blood and entrails chose and if they couldn't choose by then, you'd just have to find another bird and try again.
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