Last Acts

681 Reads   |   Published over 6 years ago

They came over the hills like insects. Line by line, inexorable and unstoppable.

Their squat, compacted forms spread out, flanking the small settlement with dire purpose. For all their brutish behavior, this showed at least a little pre-planning. That, plus the fact that they had chosen to commence their attack during the storm. The rain and its accompanying chill blurred their outlines, making the formerly crisp contrast of heat to ambient temperature less distinct.

The sentries never stood a chance.

The first cries of alarm, coming far far too late, reached them as he and his mother were finishing their evening meal. She heard them first and slowly uncurled, head swaying as she focused. Then she went very still.  

“Run,” she told him and reached out to pull him from the meat. Urgent, she began hustling him to the back passages. “Go to the red-orange cave. I will join you there once I get your younger siblings from the crèche.”

“But…” it was all happening so fast and his instincts were not as attuned as hers. He knew something was wrong, but could not quite grasp the scope of it. Then the hiss- whoosh of fire igniting rolled through the air, followed by high-pitched screams of alarm and pain.

He swallowed.

“Go,” she repeated. “Run.”

Outside, the trills and screeches of his people had begun to be over powered by the low basso notes of the attacking forces.

So, Tskzhsith ran.

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