Storm Rising

4. New Ideas

I awaken in cold dawn light, muscles aching and head foggy. I’m lying on leaf-littered stone, surrounded by rock walls and the faint scent of blood.

The sudden awareness of my vulnerable position sends me lunging to my feet, eyes rolling rapidly to take in my surroundings. Small gashes in my hide to twinge and tear open with the sudden movement.

No immediate threat presents itself, but a growing sense of unease makes my skin itch as I survey the cave. The sound of trickling water drifts in from outside, along with the beginnings of morning birdsong - the creatures of the air celebrating the end of the storm.

The memory of the storm sends dread surging through me: something happened during the storm, in this cave, something very bad. Scuffling sounds from the crevice send me whirling towards the entrance as something large and smelling of fresh blood steps around a curve in the wall.

My rising dread explodes into terror and rage at the sight of the backlit, two-legged silhouette. The memory of being frozen in place with this creature touching my face roars through my mind. This creature touched me and then there was–

fire and fear and terrible, searing pain as choking smoke fills my lungs and writhing figures lunge toward me, screaming and clawing… and then darkness.

The memory fills me with terror and a feeling like churning fire - hatred. I need to escape this enclosed space, I need to get out! But the creature is standing in front of the exit.

Shrilling a challenge, I lunge towards it, but as I move there’s a blinding flash and a force knocks me into the cave wall. Disoriented, I stagger away, head ringing and legs shaking. There’s a foul stench filling the air, like rotting meat mixed with swamp gas; it stings my eyes and makes me snort and cough.

When I look up the entrance is empty. The urge to flee takes over. I rush through, sides scraping on stone as I gasp for air. Once outside I’m brought up short by my surroundings. To the right lies dense, impenetrable undergrowth; to the left stretches a rock wall; and ahead stands the creature, one of its hands glowing orange.

I lay my ears back flat against my neck and glare at it, aching to knock the wretched creature down and run past it to freedom; but the ominously glowing hand keeps me where I am.

The nearby birds have fallen silent, but further away red-jays and tarquines are singing joyfully. I don't share their joy. My head aches and there’s a faint buzzing in my ears, like an angry horsefly. I shift uncomfortably in the sloppy mud, sprained leg twinging.

Around us the dawn light is growing stronger, the clouds blushing pink with the coming sunrise. Once it rises the air will turn humid and busy with biting insects, but for now the air is cool and crisp. Although a foul reek still drifts from the cave.

The two-legger is standing there watching, hand on its hip. I eye it warily and stamp a leg, tail swishing irritably. If this two-legger doesn’t move soon I’ll knock it over, glowing hand or no, and then stomp on it for good measure.

If there’s one thing this world can do without, it’s vicious, light-wielding creatures that stand on two fewer legs than they ought to.

Perhaps the creature senses my mood, because it starts making the noises I remember from last night – although this time they sound harsher and more agitated. It gesticulates wildly with its glowing hand as it talks.

Despite myself, my ears flick forward to catch the noises as they tumble from the creature’s mouth in a heated rush. The orange glow deepens to red, casting flickering light around the clearing as the creature gestures, matching the clouds above.