Why do I suddenly feel like Hansel and Gretel?Timber said.
Because it's a trap,Canyon said.
What do you want to do?
Canyon considered, then said.Three choices. One—circle back. Try to catch them unaware. Two—leave the bluff. Return with backup. Or three—see what's up with the trap.
Timber nodded thoughtfully, then stepped directly onto the path. Canyon followed. To their left, a male laughed softly. With a whir and a clunk, the ground opened beneath them, and they fell straight down.
“Oh shit!” Timber yelled. “Abandon trap!”
Snickering, Canyon flung his arms and legs out, grasping for handholds, but finding none. Falling fast, he looked down and up and all around, but it was too dark to see. His feet hit something and his body crumpled, forcing a grunt from him. Instead of pancaking, he slid feet-first, down some sort of giant waterslide. Freezing water drenched him to the skin as he slipped and slid like he was at Six Flags.
“We gon’ diiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” Timber yelled from behind him, his voice echoing back like they were in a tube.
Canyon dug into the slick rock covered with mud and moss below him with his hands and feet. No matter what he did, he couldn’t slow himself down. He bent his knees and bowed his back, dragging the metal frame of his rucksack through the muck, trying to find a root or a crack to wedge up against.
“I can’t stop!” Timber yelled. “It’s too slimy—you alive, little bro?”
Yeah,Canyon grunted inruhi.For the next couple seconds.
The frame of his pack caught on something, grinding and pulling, slowing Canyon down. He dug into the muck until he found a tree root and grabbed on, stopping himself. Water sluiced around him, and then Timber slammed into him, his weight pushing Canyon free, and the two of them sliding madly again.
Grab on!Canyon shouted.Handholds!
His left heel found a tree root, and he wedged against it, dragging the rucksack through the muck, until it stuck again. He and Timber grunted and swore and called out to each other,grabbing ahold of whatever they could find, until they managed to stop themselves.
Canyon lay almost fully-supine, his weight on his rucksack, his heels wedged against roots, one hand holding onto a root, the other free. Water streamed all around him, pushing and pulling at him.
“Now what?” Timber called out, like he was having the time of his life.
Canyon wasn’t having such a great time. His fucking socks were wet, and hehatedwet socks.
“Predator!” he called. “Status report!”
No response.
Damn.Canyon didn’t want to lose Predator in some fucked up trap.
“Wulf?” Timber said.
Predator spoke from somewhere above them and its screen flashed, spilling light. Canyon shook his head, irritated anew at his creation not responding to itsname.
:I am Wulf—
“You doing okay there, buddy?” Timber said.
:I am doing okay—
“Could you, ah, give us some light?” Timber said.
Predator’s screen flared brightly, silhouetting a snarling wolf with dazzling white teeth against the wall of the tube. Oh so carefully, Canyon leaned his head back, evaluating their situation. Timber’s boots were wedged up against a tree root next to Canyon’s head. Water ran and splashed all around them. They were in a tube like a cave. Predator was a few feet above Timber, holding onto a tree root with its mechanical arm, water flowing around its wheels.
“Predator, report your battery level,” Canyon said, wanting to calculate how much time they could afford at this level of light.
Predator did not respond. Canyon’s blood pressure rose. He growled.
“Ah, Wulf,” Timber said, “Report your battery level.”
