its baaack!!
((sorry for the….extremely long wait folks, but sadly, I had lost interest in this story. But I’ve decided to keep going! Yay! So here is the next installment, and we continue the Good Slig Chronicles))
Drogin woke with an excruciating pain in his left arm. He noticed his mask was off, and his pants were gone. As he lifted his head, which seemed to weigh a ton, he saw that his left arm was in a splint. He tried to lift it, but he was unable and because it hurt too much. When he attempted this, it made him groan in pain. Other than his arm, he felt in pretty good shape. As his groggy eyes focused, he noticed his surroundings. He was inside of some kind of tent. There were no lights except the sun breaking through the opening at the top. Him and the cot-like bed he was laying on were the only things inside of it. He heard noises outside, voices, rustling, footsteps. His first thought was that he was caught by the Vykkers or the Glukkons. This thought made him very scared and he thought of how to escape. How would he be able to crawl with his arm broken? His mind was still made up, he had to escape. Using his good arm and balancing his body weight, he pushed him self off the bed. When his bad arm hit the ground, he almost screamed but muffled it. He cracked the splint. Suddenly he heard an odd voice from outside the tent.
“How is he doing?”
“Still asleep.” Another voice was heard.
“Where do you think he came from? He’s awfully little for a slig.”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s wise to keep him here. He could be dangerous!”
“I know, but still, we have to do what the shaman tells us. I’m going to check on him.”
Before Drogin could move or speak, a figure walked in. His muscles tensed up, ready to see the horrifying face of a Vykker, but instead saw the warm, friendly face of a Native Mudokon. Drogin relaxed and took a deep sigh.
“You’re awake.” The Mud said, a little apprehensive.
“Um, hi. My name is Drogin. Can you tell me where I am?”
“Not really. This is a survivor Mud camp. Abe saved us all. We were instructed to hide here, near the river. My name is Doug. Where are you from, how did you get in the river?”
“River? Oh, well, me and my friends were being chased by a Vykker, so we jumped off a cliff to escape…..or die. We must’ve landed in the river, I guess you found me.”
“Why were you running from a Vykker? Don’t sligs work for Vykkers and Glukkons.”
“Well, yes, but me and my buddies ran away from all that. We’re not like other sligs, we’re good.”
Doug shifted and moved closer to Drogin, “Oh really? Well, you’ll be treated with kindness here. Our Mud troops will help find your buddies, what do they look like?”
“Oh, Trask looks like any other slig, he may be loud and obnoxious, but he’s a nice guy. And then there’s Harc, he’s a Big Bro Slig, but he has a heart of gold.”
“Alright, I’ll send some warriors out to search down the river banks, in the mean time,” he walked over and picked up Drogin and set him back on the bed, “You should rest.”
Drogin smiled at Doug and replied, “Thank you.” As he drifted off to sleep.
To be continued…
|
Great story!
