They will quickly realize they are outmatched.
I look down, realizing those thoughts made my claws extend. I carefully sharpened them on a fallen log this morning, then flipped it over to hide the evidence. They are naturally sharp, but I never had any reason or motivation to remove the outer claw layers to make them into deadly razors—aside from keeping my index claws honed to help clean vent edges.
The two claws that extend from the thumbs on each side of my hands I have only used a few times in my adult life, and those times just out of curiosity. They are designed for latching on. My ancestors used these to keep an enemy stationary long enough to violently whip their tails around and deliver a load of venom.
From all accounts, the process floods a manticorid with a sense of euphoria, which explains why it took us so long to move past that stage in our social evolution.
I suppose as a species we'll soon be finding out how we can reconcile battle euphoria with our peaceful social mores. I avoid thinking about how I'll react.
I wonder how many of us the genali will move to their hunting grounds before whatever method they used stops working.
Not that they would place me anywhere near any of my fellow manticorids, so I suppose it doesn't matter.
I twitch my tail in irritation even thinking about the genali having a momentary advantage over us, since their sheer numbers are already enough of a menace.
My tail spikes respond to my emotional state by extending. I don't bother to look, since I'm certain they're dripping venom. Too bad—for them at least—the disgusting things never developed an antidote, let alone any immunity to it.
If they come for me, I will be prepared.
11
Ree
The only thing the forest tells me after scanning for long minutes is that it's getting dark and it looks just as thick, wild, and dangerous as ever out there.
After brief consideration, I decide it would be best to wait until morning before I go out into the trees. Hopefully, by then some of my injuries will have healed enough to make it safer.
I continue to stare out into the forest, which looks quite a bit like Earth, except for where I would expect to see leaves it looks more like bristly feathers. The greens of the plants are all so much brighter than I'm used to, but at least they are green.
I'm not sure what I would expect when being on an alien planet, but it makes me feel better that these plants clearly photosynthesize. I hope the night here won't last too long. As I'm thinking about that, a breeze picks up, making the feather-like leaves rustle.
Even the sound is distinct.
It's funny how after an event as disturbing as a crash landing it's that one minor detail that makes me most unsettled.
I doubt situations like these really hold up to any clear mental process to help a person make sense of it, and I know enough about shock to know I'm still suffering from it.
Everything I see seems to take on an overlay of menace. I know it's the fear of the unknown, which is pretty damn reasonable. And yet I know I will soon be out in it because I fear the slimes far, far more.
The breeze brings with it a cool air that raises goosebumps along my body. I look down at myself, surprised to see I'm still naked. I suppose it wasn't really at the top of the priority list.
Still, after spending weeks wishing I could be dressed, I find it weird that it took me so long to realize there was nothing stopping me anymore.
I concentrate on the desire to be covered, and just like it did that first day I woke up to this nightmare, the strip of fabric around my waist quickly expands to cover the rest of my body. I can feel the material becoming thick at the soles of my feet because it raises me slightly higher.
I found out early that it responds to my desire to be covered by expanding out into a black bodysuit, but it was made very clear that if I wanted to avoid any more of the stinging gas that invaded my small cell and left me hacking on the floor with my eyes streaming I wouldn't do it again.
The sleeves extend down to my hands, forming fingerless gloves and I can feel the material snug around my neck.
I experiment with another thought, imagining that the material covers my fingers, and it responds. That might be useful, for sure. For now, I focus on imagining the material stopping at my wrist, and it shrinks back.
I panic and nearly fall off the ladder when I let an errant curiosity about if it will cover my entire body flit through my mind. The black fabric covers my eyes and mouth for a moment before it occurs to me to imagine my face uncovered.
Well, that answers that not fully realized question. "Real smart," I grumble.
I'm surprised the slimes gave us something so incredibly useful. Or that it responds to mental commands. Then it occurs to me that if I can respond to my thoughts, it could respond to others, and so it's likely a package upgrade.
It's not as if I wasn't quickly trained that I wasn't allowed to clothe myself without permission.
