Eight
1280 Words
Eight
Brice had only even seen warths from a distance. Training didn’t count. The simulations couldn’t rip your limbs from your body and tear out your insides before you fell to the ground, or plough into you so hard that your bones shattered.
He lowered into a crouch, just like Ryann, and peered through the trees. The wind and rain kept everything in motion. He might be looking straight at a warth and not even know it.
Brice waited. Ryann was good at this. She’d capture images from her lenses, and annotate them before passing them on to the crew. It would be like looking at one of those picture-within-a-picture things, where at first you see nothing, no matter how hard you stare, but once you uncover the hidden object, you can’t unsee it.
But no images came. He saw nothing beyond the vision through his own eyes, filtered through his lenses.
he asked. But he was drowned out by the voices of the others, coming so fast he couldn’t distinguish who sussed what.
He nodded in response to Ryann, and scanned the forest. He’d caught sight of one now, the beast Cathal wanted him and Tris to track. A part of the undergrowth wasn’t moving, and it slowly took on the form of a body. It was big, even crouched down like that. He didn’t want to imagine what it was like raised on its hind legs.
It was watching them. He could tell by the way it shifted its head, and the way its nose twitched. He could just about make out two eyes, like thin slits that reflected what little light there was.
Brice turned his head, trying to catch sight of the second warth, the one Cathal had said was coming along the cliff path. Did that mean it was moving their way? If that was the case, shouldn’t they be retreating? That was the standard procedure—stop, and if the warth came closer, retreat. Make no sudden movements, and do nothing to appear threatening. They wouldn’t attack unless provoked. They were harmless until they believed they were in danger. Or their cubs were at risk.
Ryann had mentioned a nest.
The beast in the trees made a snuffling noise, and Brice saw its lips part, revealing grey teeth. Brice gulped. He knew they were mainly herbivores, but that didn’t calm him. They would eat meat when pushed, or when there was no other option, and their jaws were powerful enough to tear through skin and muscle as easily as taking a bite from a piece of fruit.
Brice wondered if flesh tasted as sweet.
> Ryann sussed. Think we might have to retreat.>
Cathal’s voice was sharp.
Sounded like Tris was close to panic.
At least Tris was looking where he should have been.
Brice glanced back, to the path they’d walked in on. Many of the plants had sprung back into place, but he could still make out their route where they’d broken some. He doubted that was Ryann, even though she’d been first through. Probably Tris, being heavy-handed.
And something caught his eye. A shape, just behind a couple of low-hanging branches. Something big.
But they never travelled in threes. On their own, or in pairs near a nest. Put a third warth in the mix, and they’d fight amongst themselves.
Yet what else could it be?
Brice focused. The fur was lighter, almost silver. Did that mean it was older, or younger? Maybe it wasn’t important. And maybe the way it opened its jaws and stretched its face was a sign of boredom, or some kind of exercise. Maybe it was in pain, a thorn stuck in its paw or something.
And maybe it was preparing to attack.
Brice moved a hand to his hip and flicked open the catch on his holster. He knew a lash would do little to stop a warth in full run, but it might do enough. It might be sufficient to give him time to escape.
As Cathal sussed, Brice felt relief. At least someone was listening.
Brice rolled his eyes, but a part of him was worried. If Tris was forgetting stuff in his panic, what would he do if those things did attack? He’d be a bloody liability.
Brice thought he detected an edge of worry in Ryann’s voice. That wasn’t good.
Brice moved back until he was against the rock. He twitched his fingers, wondering how the rain would affect the holds. But if Cathal said it looked easy, Brice would have no problems. He didn’t know about the others, though. He hadn’t seen them climb.
Not in the rain. And never with three angry warths at their heels.
Brice looked back to the third warth. It was slinking through the foliage, keeping low to the ground, like it was trying to stay hidden. But it was unmistakable, as were its intentions. Its gaze never once wavered from where Brice and the others stood.
He slid the lash from the holster and curled his fingers round the grip. He brought his thumb up and placed it on the control panel, calling up full power, high intensity. Anything less would be little more than a light slap. He needed a heavy punch.
The crosshairs in Brice’s lenses tunnelled as he brought them together on the target, zooming in on those beady eyes and that glistening nose. He lowered his aim, to the yellow teeth, and the mottled pink of the weaker mouth tissue
Brice locked on to the target. Even if he moved the lash now, his lattice would compensate. There was no way he could miss.
Ryann urged caution, and Cathal told them to hold firm. They would wait for the first move. While the warths remained stationary, there was no danger.
he sussed.
Cathal’s voice was strangely distant.
Brice didn’t turn. He knew how to climb. He could work out a route on the fly, no problem.
The warth in his sights was smaller than the other two, but muscles rippled beneath the fur on its haunches. And now, Brice saw that it was not silvery, but was covered in mud, like it had been wallowing in a pool of the stuff.
Did warths do that?
It rocked back on its haunches, the sides of its mouth twitching. Through the constant dripping and the roll of thunder, Brice heard a guttural growl vibrate from the beast’s throat. He saw the head lower as a flash of lightning lit the sky.
Brice didn’t have time to shout a warning as the warth charged.
- Writer
