Thread Closed
South Shroud Landing
Khuma trembled, clutching the pale, featureless mask fastened tightly over her face. Â They were supposed to protect them. Â They were supposed to keep this from happening. Â From above, the rain continued to pour, beating a cold wet rhythm on her dirty leathers, soaking her bowstring to uselessness in the mud half a dozen fulms away.
The masks protected them from woodsin. Â That's how they could live out here without fear. Â The masks collected the woodsin, and then they burned them and got new masks. Â They could live out here forever without even conjurers, that's what they'd said. Â That's what had been true. Â True until tonight.
Bathu screamed; had been screaming; was still streaming. Â She wouldn't stop. Â Khuma refused to look and stayed hidden behind the tree, clutching her mask, praying to Menphina to make it end. Â The thing, the horrible thing screamed as well, howling in a hundred voices, each one different, unique, pained, but Khuma could still pick out Bathu's cries.
"Help me! Â Someone help me!"
She didn't move. Â The rain fell and the screaming continued, and she hid, terrified, shivering in the cold and the wet and the fear like an animal. Â On the other side of the tree something moved. Â Khuma froze. Â At the very corner of her vision a shape slithered across the ground towards her bow.
Don't move. Â Don't breathe. Â Don't make a sound. Â The shape became a hand, an arm, a person. Â Bathu's fingers clawed down into the mud and she pulled herself along the ground, still screaming. Â Khuma stared, peering out through the darkened holes of her mask.
Bathu's mask had fallen off, leaving her face bare and terrified. Â her eyes were crazed as she screamed again. Â "Help! Â Help me! Â Someone!" Â She was going for the bow, left discarded in the mud. Â or maybe she was just trying to get away, to put distance between her and that awful screaming thing that was even now moving on the other side of the tree, teeth crunching down on something wet and warm.
Her fingers touched the bow, and she scrabbled for it wildly, flinging mud in every direction. Â Desperate, he clutched it and turned over onto her back. Â Her legs were stumps, taken off mid thigh by those impossible teeth in the screaming thing that had descended upon the camp. Â Bathu raised the bow, triumphant in death, and realized she had no arrows.
Khuma had arrows. Â They dug into her back as she pressed harder against the tree, watching her sister. Â Then, despite her prayers, Bathu finally saw her. Â Their eyes met, and Bathu began screaming again. Â "Arrows! Â Give me an arrow! Â Help me! Â Khuma!"
Shut up. Â Shut up shut up shut up. Â It can hear you. Â It's coming shut up. Â Shut up and die.
"An arrow! Â Give me an arrow!"
She didn't move. Â She didn't say anything. Â She just looked at the ragged mess of bleeding meat where her sister's legs had been, and she shook her head. Â No. Â No shut up. Â Go away. Â Go away and die! Â Leave me alone!
Bathu pleaded. Â She was crying. Â Even in the rain and the dark Khuma could see the tears in her eyes. Â She was begging, dying for an arrow. Â Then there was a snap; cracking bone. Â Bathu was lifted from the ground, bow still dangling from her hand, but her body had gone limp. Â She hung in the air, tears still streaming from her pleading eyes. Â "Why?"
Then she was gone, and Khuma was alone. Â Almost alone. Â She clutched the mask tighter, holding in sobs. Â They were supposed to protect them. Â This wasn't supposed to happen as long as they had the masks.
Then the thing came around the tree, and the screaming continued.
Khuma trembled, clutching the pale, featureless mask fastened tightly over her face. Â They were supposed to protect them. Â They were supposed to keep this from happening. Â From above, the rain continued to pour, beating a cold wet rhythm on her dirty leathers, soaking her bowstring to uselessness in the mud half a dozen fulms away.
The masks protected them from woodsin. Â That's how they could live out here without fear. Â The masks collected the woodsin, and then they burned them and got new masks. Â They could live out here forever without even conjurers, that's what they'd said. Â That's what had been true. Â True until tonight.
Bathu screamed; had been screaming; was still streaming. Â She wouldn't stop. Â Khuma refused to look and stayed hidden behind the tree, clutching her mask, praying to Menphina to make it end. Â The thing, the horrible thing screamed as well, howling in a hundred voices, each one different, unique, pained, but Khuma could still pick out Bathu's cries.
"Help me! Â Someone help me!"
She didn't move. Â The rain fell and the screaming continued, and she hid, terrified, shivering in the cold and the wet and the fear like an animal. Â On the other side of the tree something moved. Â Khuma froze. Â At the very corner of her vision a shape slithered across the ground towards her bow.
Don't move. Â Don't breathe. Â Don't make a sound. Â The shape became a hand, an arm, a person. Â Bathu's fingers clawed down into the mud and she pulled herself along the ground, still screaming. Â Khuma stared, peering out through the darkened holes of her mask.
Bathu's mask had fallen off, leaving her face bare and terrified. Â her eyes were crazed as she screamed again. Â "Help! Â Help me! Â Someone!" Â She was going for the bow, left discarded in the mud. Â or maybe she was just trying to get away, to put distance between her and that awful screaming thing that was even now moving on the other side of the tree, teeth crunching down on something wet and warm.
Her fingers touched the bow, and she scrabbled for it wildly, flinging mud in every direction. Â Desperate, he clutched it and turned over onto her back. Â Her legs were stumps, taken off mid thigh by those impossible teeth in the screaming thing that had descended upon the camp. Â Bathu raised the bow, triumphant in death, and realized she had no arrows.
Khuma had arrows. Â They dug into her back as she pressed harder against the tree, watching her sister. Â Then, despite her prayers, Bathu finally saw her. Â Their eyes met, and Bathu began screaming again. Â "Arrows! Â Give me an arrow! Â Help me! Â Khuma!"
Shut up. Â Shut up shut up shut up. Â It can hear you. Â It's coming shut up. Â Shut up and die.
"An arrow! Â Give me an arrow!"
She didn't move. Â She didn't say anything. Â She just looked at the ragged mess of bleeding meat where her sister's legs had been, and she shook her head. Â No. Â No shut up. Â Go away. Â Go away and die! Â Leave me alone!
Bathu pleaded. Â She was crying. Â Even in the rain and the dark Khuma could see the tears in her eyes. Â She was begging, dying for an arrow. Â Then there was a snap; cracking bone. Â Bathu was lifted from the ground, bow still dangling from her hand, but her body had gone limp. Â She hung in the air, tears still streaming from her pleading eyes. Â "Why?"
Then she was gone, and Khuma was alone. Â Almost alone. Â She clutched the mask tighter, holding in sobs. Â They were supposed to protect them. Â This wasn't supposed to happen as long as they had the masks.
Then the thing came around the tree, and the screaming continued.