[SW][O]Raise A Little Hell
Location: Eastern Mudos wilderness, close to Scrabania
Time: Mid-day
Weather: Warm, clear skies
It had been a relatively quiet sort of day. The sun was bright, but the canyon's walls provided enough shade that the small slig convoy currently traveling through it could do so without extreme discomfort. They joked, cussed, and jostled eachother as they walked, the whirr of their mechanical legs creating a rhythmic marching song to keep time to. They were escorting a slow-moving supply truck to some outpost or another deeper in the scrub, an easy job, if somewhat boring.
Nothing had troubled them so far, aside from a couple of mangy-looking scrabs that had quickly retreated when bullets tore up the dust in front of their claws. The soldiers were cocky and in good spirits, utterly oblivious to the young Grubb watching them from the shadows of a nearby rockslide. She crouched motionless, letting her clay-toned markings hide her against the reddish rocks. She was too far away to hear anything the soldiers said clearly, but her attention was more on the diesel wagon they escorted. She had seen enough wagon trains back on her side of Mudos to know that anything worth protecting was worth taking. But how to do it?
There were eight, maybe ten sligs, all armed. Probably one or two more in the truck. Gabbi might have been foolhardy, but she wasn't entirely stupid, and she had little desire to get shot full of holes. She grumbled and shifted her weight, trying to relieve the pressure of a rock digging into her heel.
That, evidently, was a bad decision. One of the sligs had been glancing in her direction, bored and zoned out. The unexpected movement in the boulder pile drew his attention, and he immediately perked up, flicking the safety off his gun. Gabbi immediately froze again, eyes wide. Her heart was hammering in her chest and her instincts screamed at her to flee, but she remained where she was. If she moved again, he'd see her for sure. After what felt like an eternity, the slig seemed to disregard whatever he had seen and loped away to catch up with the others. Gabbi let out a shuddering breath. That was probably enough reconnaissance for today.
Once the convoy had passed her, she slipped off the rockslide and down into a gully. The cool shadows at the bottom of the canyon were easier on the amphibian--perhaps she could even find a stream to wet her gullet. However, as she was navigating the steep slope, arms out for balance, a rock gave way beneath her foot. She slipped, felt her ankle twist, then came down hard on her side. A torrent of vicious, entirely un-ladylike curses erupted from her as she grabbed at her leg, doubled up and gripping at her ankle. Mercifully, nothing felt broken or sprained--it had just startled her and hurt like hell. As she climbed back to her feet, gingerly testing her leg, she realized that her little outburst had echoed through the canyon. Wonderful. The convoy probably hadn't heard her, but there was no telling what else was out here.
Reaching a hand down to the flint axe slung at her hip to reassure herself of its presence, the Grubb began to make her hurried way back to her squadron's camp, hoping that by the time anything came to investigate the sudden torrent of swears, she would be long gone.
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