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Andorill: Stick

Here is the next segment of this tale. For the previous entries, check Hardluck Ink here and Speaking Out here

Tsk was halfway to her next jump point, the remains of a long-fallen tree, a wonderful place to find a nourishing repast of beetles and wood worms, when she realized two things: One, the furless bipedals stood beside a broken, egg-like conveyance, and Two, they still had absolutely no realization of the dark creature barreling across the field toward them.

Of all the–Tsk shook her head in exasperation.  She had no clue why she risked life and limb for the obviously brainless bipedals, but she felt drawn to them in the same fashion the spider was drawn to her hypnotic dance of death.

She reached the tree, quickly snatched a beetle before it could scurry away and chopped a few bites from its head while she thought. The moons were out. Both of them.  The light they provided was almost as that of the–

Of course! That was it. Tsk mentally slapped herself. She had forgotten that bipedals couldn’t see at night very well. The dark coloring of the creature and its normal low-to-the-ground movement would keep them from noticing it until too late.

She tossed the half-eaten beetle aside and shot into the air again, aiming for the egg-like structure where the bipedals stood. But she knew she wouldn’t make it. The dark creature had closed the distance by half and, as was typical of its kind when it smelled death nearby, it had increased its speed. It would arrive and, in a flash of its four, razor-sharp clawed arms, would cut its way through the two bipedals. The older might stand a small chance of survival. The younger would die benath the first slash of those claws.

She had to do something. A distraction of some sort. Give the bipedals time to turn and fight or flee. Neither option seemed promising but better than nothing.

She cast about for something to yank the attention of the monster as she now saw it.

The tree. It had fallen long ago, but trees fell all the time, especially if something big and nasty brushed by it with claws the size of the steel weapons the bipedals used. Trees dotted the clearing, several close to the path the creature now took. Tsk didn’t have the strength, physical or mental, to push down a tree, but to use it like stick to whip the creature long enough to distract it?

She diverted enough of her attention to flying to concentrate on a tree closest to the creature’s path and imaged it falling atop the creature. Then she took that image, the snap of the trunk breaking, the sight of the limbs cascading down upon the creature, the smell of the fresh earth being churned by the movement of the trunk, and she slammed it hard into the creature’s walnut-sized brain.

The creature came to a dead stop, plowing into the mud, and let out an ear-bursting howl of pain as it thrashed around, trying to dislodge a tree trunk that wasn’t there. Two short moments later and that tiny brain realized it had been tricked.

And it was angered.


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