swill: poppyapples.dw (ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇ sᴀʏs "ʙᴜᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴊᴀɪʟ")
Benjamin F. "Hawkeye" Pierce ([personal profile] swill) wrote in [community profile] thearena 2013-11-27 04:25 am (UTC)

Atta girl. What a good girl.

Christ, children shouldn't be here.

But the cards were dealt and the enemy patrol was at their door. It was either bug out now or die later- that is to say, soon. He knew those buggers were fast. He knew stepping out of the hollow tree might mean death. And all they'd see would be the gray-brown of scaly skin and a flash of yellow teeth or black claws and a lot of red. He knew because he'd seen that before. And suddenly he wanted to panic, but knew he couldn't. He gives Ellie a squeeze on the shoulder before she ducks to grab her things. It was supposed to be reassuring but he's so quiet and still he doubts it's everything but, and he feels his gut clench. Well- well at least she had sharp things and she was faster than he was.

Chict, chict, rrreeei

He'd be the lame one, the easy prey.

Christ, he didn't want to be.

He wasn't even sure he could force his legs forwards, he felt glued to the ground under them. He was dizzy and his left arm was hurting, dull and long lived damned jabs at the rest of his body, at angry nerves and an ill-prepared body.

Rrreeeiitch

And that trill was loud and he heard a breath, a huff that wasn't his

and he pushed the girl out the opening and he'll be at her heels, if nothing else is first.

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