Chapter B4C38 - Frontier
The kin was a small, chittering thing, the size of a dog much like the ones he’d grown up around on the farm. Except this was no dog. Its face was covered in little claws, at least eight of them, each designed to hook into flesh so the little horror could go to work with its razor-sharp fangs. With six insect-like legs, the creature was fast and mobile, not easy to pin down.
Difficult prey for a zombie, but Georg had found a few methods that worked.
The kin advanced in stop-start motions, sensing the air and hunting for life to destroy. It smelled him, faintly, and it would come towards him in time. All he had to do was be patient.
Working as a farm hand was boring work. Back-breaking at times, mind numbingly repetitive almost always, so it was little wonder he and other young boys had sought out other pastimes in the little free time they’d had. Jom Dream had been the first to really push them to compete with the sling. His name hadn’t really been Dream, of course, that was his nickname. Ma Gonnel called him an archer’s dream, thanks to his fat head, and the name had stuck.
All the boys would get together and challenge each other to various difficult shots with the sling. Hit a horseshoe from ten metres. Twenty metres. Knock a mug off a fence post around the cows.
Georg had never been the best, but he wasn’t the worst, either. Now he put that Skill to good use.
Quietly, he lowered the sling by his side and fit the nice, egg-shaped stone he’d found the previous day into the cup. Gripping it tight once more, he checked to make sure he had room, and started to whirl it. Slowly at first, but with growing momentum, he spun it until the sound of it cutting through the air became more and more audible.
The kin heard it just a moment before he sprang up from behind the bushes and released the stone. It wasn’t that difficult a shot, and his rock flew true, striking the creature hard in the side and knocking it over.
From behind him, Georg’s minions lurched forward, eerie moans emanating from their throats. The zombies certainly weren’t quick, and the kin had managed to right itself by the time they reached it.