The scrab stopped on a small cliff and rested. He had been running straight for three days in pursuit of the ghost scrab. But he was not yet tired, merely thirsting for fresh water as it was so scarce across the desert plains. Not that scrabs ever needed much water but he needed it to sustain his energy.
The scrab let his claws sense the earth beneath him. He could tell now that he was now in was highly vegetated, and that water was flowing in a stream down in the valley. But he could also sense movement.
Down the valley 3 mudokons strode with arrows and slings. Whistling and chattering cheerfully. One mudokon made a dirty joke about a slog with no legs in a slig barracks and the others laughed hilariously. Their humour was short lived by the dull thud they heard directly behind them.
Last edited by Slig_Cake; 03-26-2006 at 01:30 AM..
|