Chapter Two
He saw it all again.
The blinding explosions of white light; the endless, breathless running; the petrified faces of friends as they were dragged away to their certain, unimaginable demise.
And above it all, the immense form of their attacker; unyielding, unthinking and unstoppable as it extinguished their lives one by one.
It was coming. It would take them all. Nobody was safe.
With a jolt, Puck snapped to consciousness and lay panting, his body sweaty and tense. Slowly, his eyes began to adjust to his surroundings. He tilted his head slightly to look around. Puck realised he was lying on his back on a thick pile of soft evergreen leaves, underneath a canopy of dirt a few feet off the ground. Sunlight filtered weakly through a couple of small holes in the dirt ceiling to dimly illuminate the small room. In quiet solitude, Puck began to recall the events of the previous evening; of the foraging expedition, the lost food and, of course, the ominous craft.
While Puck's memory of returning to the burrows was hazy, he clearly had managed to evade any further hostile encounters, and that meant Kirett and Jacinth were safe as well. If anyone else of the foraging group had been so lucky remained to be found out, but Puck still felt terribly worn out. He had exerted himself last night, and his body still ached. Besides, he was in no great rush to find out just how many friends and pack-mates had been killed in the violent attack.
Breathing a small sigh, Puck rested his head back on the leaves and shut his eyes again.
But, just as he began to feel his mind slip back into the dreary realm of his subconscious, something hit him.
It was a smooth, aerodynamic object, which had travelled through the air with enough force to sharply sting the exact centre of Puck's forehead, but not enough to do any more damage than slightly bruise his skin. He groaned, and started to sit up slowly. Someone's silhouette was crouching in the burrow's entrance.
"Strange, Kirett. It's not like you to waste a perfectly good acorn."
His friend smiled. "So you're awake, then. Nice sleep?"
"Mmph."
"No rest for the weary. I feel terrible, but there's some pretty important business to be attending to soon."
Puck stretched out and began to stand up slowly. "I can imagine," he yawned. "How long was I asleep for?"
"A good eight hours or so. That's pretty excessive, even for you," Kirett remarked, extending a hand to help him to his feet. "It's good to know that you're not really hurt. It means that I won't have to carry you to the Unition, for one thing."
Puck brushed stray leaves from his fur, reached down for the acorn and flicked it into his mouth. "What's there to discuss? Spring's just begun, so we need to get moving and replenish the food stores as quickly as possible, we need to keep a lookout for if that thing ever comes back . . ." He shuddered at the memory. ". . . and we need to get on with life as it comes. Everyone will know that already, because the story will definitely have spread around, so I hardly think the situation warrants a Unition on such short notice."
"Well, some people are of the opinion that, given the circumstances, we should consider finding a new nest, " Kirett said flatly.
Puck almost swallowed the acorn. "Th-that's crazy!" he exclaimed. "Migration won't help, it will just hurt us more! How are we supposed to prepare for a new year if we don't even have a proper home?"
"I know, I know, but I can honestly say I agree with them," Kirett sighed. "We all have every right to be scared of what happened, and we're not in any fit shape to deal with new threats here. Plus, after last night, our numbers have been . . . thinned," he faltered.
Puck felt the dreaded question needling him at the back of his mind. He gave up delaying the inevitable and let it out. "How many of us made it back?" he asked softly.
Kirett opened his mouth, and shut it again. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of what to say. After what seemed like forever, Kirett took a breath and, with the smallest of audible moans, told him the answer.
Puck blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You heard me right," Kirett said. "None. Apart from you, me, and Jacinth, just . . . no-one. We were the only ones who made it back here."
Bit by bit, the shock filtered into Puck's head. It was inconceivable, losing an entire foraging expedition in one night. It was unheard of. It was impossible.
"Twenty . . ." he breathed.
"Careful," Kirett warned him. "You're starting to shake a little bit. Are you okay to walk?"
Puck nodded weakly. "Alright." Kirett said. "We better get going. The others will be waiting for us."
In a dazed state, and half-supported by his friend, Puck trudged towards the hole. Twenty three Emerack, he thought. Twenty three Emerack and one predator. And we were slaughtered. It couldn't be outfought, outmanoeuvred or outrun. Twenty dead, and three survived because of luck. Utter, dumb luck.
His head was a whirling ball of grief, confusion and, above all else, anger. The creature had come from the sky, and exterminated a full score of pack-mates that Puck had shared his whole life with. Their lives had, in no more than a handful of minutes, been stamped out as if they had never existed. And now the rest of the pack would have to suffer the consequences.
What infuriated Puck the most was how absolutely defenceless the pack was. If the being from the sky returned they could not fight it, and his luck was bound to run out sooner or later. Even if it never came back, the Emerack had already been so badly damaged that they would most likely be overrun by natural carnivores without ever knowing what happened to their pack-mates.
Puck shook all the thoughts from his mind, and cleared his head. While the future seemed grim, the Emerack had only survived for so long because of their tenacity and adaptability. Even when all hope seemed lost, they would cling to life until the bitter end. If they were doomed to be wiped out, they would face the end knowing that they had squeezed all they could out of the world they lived in. But they wouldn't just give up.
With Kirett at his side, Puck stepped out of the burrow and breathed the morning air. A new year had begun, and the pack would see themselves through it, no matter how many obstacles life threw in their way.
. . .
Straining his eyes, Cyfal stared around the enclosure.
The walls and ceiling to his prison were completely white, to the point at which it was impossible to tell where the room ended. Cyfal himself was totally paralyzed; he was unable to move any part of his body other than his eyes. He was fixed by a hard, sleek surface to one wall of the room, limbs uncomfortably stretched across the unnatural material. He was still standing upright, which was a relief, but he couldn't turn his head or clench his fingers.
The claustrophobia-inducing hold on his body did nothing to calm Cyfal's almost hyperactive nerves. He had no idea how much time had passed since he was taken, nor did he have any clue as to the whereabouts of his pack-mates. He ached to move freely, and to be on familiar ground with the others, though as things were, he would feel blessed to ever see any of them again. Frantically Cyfal tried squirming his way out of the alien construct, but he could barely move any part of his body even a few millimetres. His arms and legs were both securely fastened, his tail straightened out on the surface painfully. No matter how much he wriggled his mysterious bonds were uncompromisingly strong.
Almost silently, a partition of the wall directly ahead of Cyfal slid sideways and a shadowy bipedal figure emerged from beyond it. The creature's body was entirely covered by some sort of black exoskeleton, blocking any discernible features from view. The shadow grew larger as the figure drew closer, until it was standing directly in front of the unmoving Emerack. Smoothly, the creature reached out with what Cyfal assumed to be an arm. In its hand (so Cyfal assumed) it held a gleaming spherical object, its centre made of a radiant scarlet substance. It appeared to sparkle slightly in the bright light.
His last registered sense was of a searing hot pain as the sphere was pressed into his outstretched palm . . .
. . .
Eyes – Specimen #1 implanted with prototype. Release will commence in approximately 900 seconds.
Ears – Disable psycholectric connection with prototype as soon as release has finished, then monitor Specimen #1's actions closely. If all has gone to plan, report again when a copacious set of results has been obtained.
Eyes – Understood. Initiating release.