I immediately spot the reason why. Two almost invisible capital Ts are looking at me with their hammerhead eyes, coming towards me slowly.
Shit.
I slowly put down the pouch with the fruits and grasp the spear in a sweaty hand. The two krolts keep coming, probably asslowly as they can go without tipping over. They’re spreading out, probably so they can attack from two sides.
I can’t allow that, so I walk backwards away from them.
I look quickly behind me and see the thick trunk of a tree that reaches a couple of hundred feet up. If I can get that between me and those krolts, I can run.
The krolts are gaining on me, still spreading out. Their teeth are incredibly long and sharp in their inverted buzzsaw mouths. Their eyes are cold and dead, like those of a snake. These are killing machines, fearsome predators, perfect for their jungle, where they can zigzag between trees and bushes as they run. Those two we killed before got too eager—they attacked in a clearing where they lost their advantages.
No, this isn’t going to work.
I turn and run, sprinting as fast as I can through the undergrowth. Twigs and roots whip around my legs and cheeks as I crash through the bushes. I can’t look behind me, I can’t stop. I have to assume that the two krolts are following me and gaining. They don’t make any noise as they run. This is their turf.
The fear is like a sour taste in my mouth, and I hear my own breath wheeze as I sprint as hard as I can. My only hope would be to find a tree that I can climb into. But medium-sized trees like that are rare—they’re either two hundred feet tall or too small to make a difference.
Off to the side, I suddenly spot a glint of blue. The ocean! I turn towards it with a sudden move, hoping the krolts are still far enough away to not catch me immediately.
I can’t hear them behind me, and there’s a chance they didn’t follow me. But I’m not slowing down. The soft ground of rotting leaves gives way to even softer sand under my feet, and then I’m out of the woods and running on the beach, straight towards the water. Now I hear the soft sounds from the krolts behind me, and to the side, I spot a corner of a dark shadow behind my own.
“Kenz’ox!” I yell as I run. “Krooolts!”
I can’t turn to see if he’s still here on the beach. I can’t be that far from the saucer. “Kenz’ooox!”
The sand turns wet and firm, and then I’m splashing through the warm waves. There are splashes behind me too, but when the water is up to my waist, they stop. I wade on, desperately fighting the resistance from the deepening water, before I turn, spear lifted.
The two krolts have stopped and are lazily trotting in a circle right at the edge of the water. Their eyes swivel to follow me.
I breathe hard, still fighting each wave to not be knocked off my feet, and being washed towards the beach and the predators.
I consider yelling again, but I decide not to. I’m not being actively killed right now, and if Kenz’ox comes running, he’ll be in deadly danger. And a tiny part of me doesn’t want to call for him, see him approaching, and then stopping and turning back again, leaving me to my fate. Because he may have to do that. His main responsibility is toward Aker’iz, not me.
I slowly make my way to the side, along the beachline, hoping the krolts won’t follow. Maybe they’ll get bored, maybe they’ll get tired. Maybe their eyesight isn’t the best. I can theoretically stay in the water for hours, days even.
Unless…
I turn and scan the horizon for dark blobs. Nothing yet, but from this low point, they would be hard to see anyway.
The krolts easily keep up with me. The beach stretches to infinity in both directions. There’s no obvious point where I might hope that I can sneak past the krolts and into the jungle again.
“I wonder how well you guys can see in the dark,” I mutter, before a wave washes over my head and pushes me closer to the surf.
The krolts keep circling, and now they’re splashing through inch-deep water, as if they’re getting braver.
Panic rises in me. I may have to swim out to where the water is too deep for them to go. As thin as they are, I can’t imagine them floating that well.
But swimming while holding the spear is not easy. Finally, I have to do a weird, one-sided backstroke to get anywhere, waves washing over my face once every two seconds.
The krolts come closer and splash in circles where the water is a foot deep. I think they’re falling for it. They don’t seem to have any problem running through the water due to their thinness.
Then they change their minds and quickly make their way back to the wet sand.
I splutter as I tread water in the deep waves. That nearly worked?—
“Shit!”
Something snakes around my ankle.
