The Fall of Daoradh

“Something is in my pack!” Michael screamed, trying to throw it off. The high-pitched scream of the little creature pierced their ears as it then sprung from the ground to the top of the pack, harrying Michael the more. Michael sent the little creature flying to the ground as he threw off the bag, but as he did, he saw a tentacle with circular teeth at its end cutting through the pack into what would have been Michael’s back. The little creature rolled to its feet and attacked the tentacle with a fury. Seth had drawn his sword and was standing there stunned, wiping the water from his eyes. Michael was jumping back and forth, trying to stay clear of the strange death match before him. The creature began to tear strips of flesh from the attacking tentacle while clinging to it with its muscled hind legs and teeth. The tentacle doubled over and tried to curl around its assailant, but when this failed, it flailed about wildly. It pounded the small creature against the ground until the beating caused the animal to loose its grip. The tentacle rose up, moving back and forth as if it had eyes. It struck quickly, attaching to the creature’s side as the creature screamed frantically, trying to tear away the tentacle’s ripping teeth. Slowly, the shrieks died to a gurgling sound as greenish blood ran between the creature’s teeth and down its small chin. Then the tentacle began to undulate as lumps began to stream down its length, disemboweling its victim as it pulled the creature into the mud, the creature’s sightless eyes the last to descend. The sound of rain returned to their ears, but even its empty droning of white noise threatened them.