Chapter 15: Echoes of the Dark
Ryan stood frozen in the narrow, gloomy fissure, feeling a bit like a deer caught in the headlights of four very large, very angry, and very supernatural Mack trucks.
The Rage Boar, the Dark Echo Spine Whelp Alpha, the shadowy Grove Stalker, and the extra-distorted Distortion Hound, they all just stared at him with those creepy, glowing red eyes that promised a world of hurt.
His plan to "hunt the Rage Boar" had officially gone from "brave" to "catastrophically, monumentallystupid."
He could feel a surge of adrenaline, that fight-or-flight juice, pumping through his veins. Flight seemed like a really good option right now, but the only way out was back the way he came, and these four angry party-crashers were blocking the exit. So, fight it was. Or, more accurately, "try not to get immediately turned into monster chow."
The Dark Echo Spine Whelp Alpha, clearly the impatient one of the group, made the first move. It didn’t even bother with a warning growl.
It just twitched, and a whole volley of shadowy quills, much thicker and meaner-looking than the regular Spine Whelp variety, shot out like a burst from a spiky machine gun.
They weren’t just aimed at his chest; they were spread out, a dark fan of pointy death.
"Nope, nope, nope!" Ryan yelped, his brain finally kicking back into gear. He slammed his mental "Short Blink" button on his Phase Gauntlet.
Zip!
He reappeared a meter to his right, just as the shadowy quills peppered the spot where he’d been standing. A few of them even embedded themselves in the rock wall with nasty thunking sounds.
He hadn’t dodged them all, though. One of the shadowy quills grazed his shoulder, not deeply, but it didn’t just sting like the regular ones. This one sent a numbing, icy chill spreading through his arm, and his vision flickered for a second, like someone was playing with the contrast knob on his eyeballs.