Sort of a filler, sort of a not. Its very short, but it's just meant to add to the last chapter as an added bonus. More chapters on the way!
The beast had raised its claws, and Wynn had just tackled Webber out of the way in one more foolhardy way of keeping alive. It roared, it's voice making both children wince and unable to run further.
It moved faster than they could, and again, the paw was raised high, the sun blurring any real movement into a shiny haze of terror. They waited, cowering, the blow just upon them. But it never came. Wynn watched, jaw to the floor in shock of the view right in front of her. Wilson, suspended in air, his fist just planted on the face of the giant as if he'd somehow reached it and punched it in the face. Wynn could not believe it. I can't believe it. But Wilson then slowly revealed his tight grip on the animal's fur, and the knife on his belt. He reached for it, not giving the thing any time to recover as he thrust it into the beast as hard and as many times as he could muster.
At no point in time had his heart ever raced so fast it felt like he was floating away. His thoughts focused on the task of destroying the beast, nothing could stand in his way if he was to succeed. It was no use though. Even with the puncture wounds deep within the beast it still lived, just more angrier and bloodied than before. Wynn took her chance, as soon as Wilson was flung off she lunged, clamping down on the belly of the beast.
The softest area. Wilson didn't recover fast enough though, and Webber was frozen in fear, his little whimpers the background noise of the commotion. Wilson had to move now. Wynn was thrown off, and Wilson took her place, cutting into the raw flesh of its stomach.
It worked this way, one would be thrown and the other would take their place, it went on, until the beast, stopped. It was dead, a giant, massive thing. An impossible amount of resources to be used, but all Wilson and Wynn could do was sit back, and rest.
Webber finally broke down and cried, and Wilson comforted the spider child. Wynn stared at the dead beast, their troubles gone, or at least, one of them. It could have been so much worse.
After a long rest they carved it up, and made movable resources out of it. Furs and meat and bones, all to be taken back to camp. But camp, was no longer there. A tall, raging fire roared over the hills, catching trees and grass in its path. At the edge of the fire, was the journal. A tell, left by no doubt, Maxwell.