Tendrils grabbed for his limbs and tail.Ellard roared—his anger echoing through the sun-blasted clearing.But finally, he scrambled free.
He retreated and whirled to study the plant.It stood as tall as him with a cream-and-yellow tubular body.Half a dozen green leaves, covered with fuzz, protruded from the base.Something—maybe his Stores—bulged out the side.As he watched, the bulge reduced and disappeared.The plant released a sound, almost like a belch, and rotated in Ellard’s direction.Then, the plant moved, dragging itself along the ground.The tangle of roots extended in front of it and propelled the tubular body in a forward motion.
Ellard found himself gaping at the weird sight.
Phrullin’ hell.Seemed as if his Stores was gone unless he managed to cut it from the plant somehow.
No weapons.He scanned his vicinity, his mind still not functioning at full speed.Must’ve hit his head.He retreated farther to get away from the plant, which seemed to be stalking him and—
Gweneth.
His feline growled, fear a red-hot spear ripping through him.He lifted his head to scent for her.Grunted.A putrid scent lay in the air—one of rotting flesh and damp soil.He tried again, searching for the fresh green scent—the familiar bouquet of Gweneth.
Nothing.
He spun and tested the air in each direction.He backed up, sat on his haunches and tried again.He had to find her.
Strong, wiry tendrils slid around his tail and spread around his belly before he could blink.He leaped from his sitting position, every inch of him aching.The tendrils broke, and a pained cry came from the plant.He blinked in horror.Phrullin’ great.Not only did they want to eat him but they had feelings too.
Nothing but those bloody plants.And…targool!The phrullin’ things were moving, massing around him.
Which one had swallowed his Stores?
They all looked the same—tubular bodies—white and mustard yellow in color with furry red tongues.The tongues flickered in a rude gesture, the tiny filaments covering them flickering in ceaseless quivers.The green tendrils that had held him prisoner ran along the ground in front of the mass of plants, grasping, searching, reaching for food.
Phrull.
He searched for a weapon again and saw nothing useful.No, better to remain in feline form.He was stronger and felt marginally better, thanks to a feline’s speedy healing and recovery.
The nearest plant moaned with such longing and desperation that Ellard’s hackles rose.He growled, low and menacing, but the tube plants kept coming.
Screw his arm.He’d run and search for Gweneth.
While his mind had dissected his choices and come up with a decision, the plants had surrounded him, cutting off his escape.
Gweneth.He had to find Gweneth.
Ellard leaped at the tube plant before him, mowing it down as he scrambled over the top of the white-and-mustard body.The plant shrieked—an ear-piercing scream—that cut through him like a sharp dagger, twisting his thoughts.He hesitated, scratching his scalp and then knocking it to clear his confusion.
Green tendrils snaked toward him, twisting under his tender stomach.They burned through the lighter fur on his underbelly.The sting worsened, and he roared.He wrenched his body, rotating and leaping at the tube plant behind him.Smaller in stature, it didn’t seem to expect him.It shrieked at his sudden attack.Must find Gweneth before these plants hurt her.
He scrambled over the plant, snarling when the green tendrils attempted to fix him in place.Using the power in his hindquarters, he sprang away.For a sec, he thought the tendrils might hold him, but they snapped without warning.
The plants cried out, their unholy shrieks grating on his mind.He staggered at the sharp pain in his brain, his momentum keeping him flying forward.He landed awkwardly, his balance off due to his missing front leg.A pained grunt escaped, the air bleeding from his chest.
Ellard rolled and scrambled to his feet.He lurched away from the plants.Gweneth.Got to find Gweneth.
The whispers and screeches coming from the lumbering vegetation made every hair along his backbone stand to attention.Phrullin’ creepy.
Determination propelled him onward, even as he cursed his slow ineptness.Lynx and Shiloh made him shift and practice, but they were always there to help him remove his arm.Jarlath encouraged it too, and the confidence they showed in his abilities helped jerk him past self-pity.Gweneth needed him, and he wouldn’t fail his bright sprite.
His?
Huh.He continued his awkward run-hop-lurch action until he couldn’t hear the plants’ shrieks and whispers.Once assured of his safety, he paused to scent the air.
Forest.Plants—he’d never forget their putrid scent.Water.
No Gweneth.
