Chapter 7: Dangerous Creatures
The projectile sliced through the air with a sinister whistle. Dylan dove to the side, dragging Maggie down with him. The object—an arrowhead-shaped shard of bone—embedded itself in a tree trunk with a dull thud, exactly where their heads had been a second earlier.
"Move!" Maggie barked, rolling onto her side, her pistol already aimed in the direction of the attack.
Between the trees, a figure emerged, barely the size of a thirteen-year-old. Its greenish skin gleamed under the slivers of light filtering through the branches, its face twisted by a protruding jaw and bulging eyes veined with black. The creature growled—a raspy, hesitant sound, as if unsure of its own aggression. It stepped back, crooked claws gripping a crude axe carved from a giant femur.
Dylan didn't fire. Crouched behind a mossy trunk, he watched the creature spinning in place, nervously sniffing the air. "It's lost," he realized. "Or waiting for backup."
Maggie, posted behind a nearby tree, caught his eye and tilted her chin eastward. "Flank it."
They crawled in silence, using the undergrowth as cover. The creature kept grunting, thumping the ground with its bone axe in rising agitation. A pungent stench wafted off it—a mix of rot and chemical secretion. Dylan held his breath as they passed within two meters of it, noting the deep, surgical-like claw scars running across its back. Someone—or something—had mutilated it.
Suddenly, a sharp crack under Maggie's foot. The creature froze, eyes bulging, scanning the shadows. Dylan tightened his grip on his machete, ready to pounce. But before it could react, a distant howl tore through the forest—a guttural, commanding call. The small creature flinched, then bolted toward the sound, abandoning its axe as it fled.
"They're communicating..." Maggie murmured, rising to her feet.
"You think that's the civilization of this world? It didn't look very smart..." Dylan muttered back.
Maggie picked up the abandoned axe and examined it. The weapon was roughly hewn, but the bone edges had been carefully polished, as if some rudimentary intelligence had shaped them.
"Not smart maybe, but not wild either." She ran a finger along the sharp edge. "Look at this. It's been sharpened. Someone's teaching them how to fight."