You pursue the fleeing guard further and further into the jungle. And further. He's young and fast, and sheds his spear, shield and bits of armor as he runs in order to speed up. Chip could catch him, of course, but Chip took off straight up when the pursuit began, and is out of sight as the rest of you run.
"You know," huffs the big guy in hot pursuit, "there is an alternative spelling, which my grandfather used. No vowel. Easier to pronounce too. Just Bombr. Ends with brrr, like you're cold" he gasps, leaping over a fallen palm trunk across the path. "Maybe we should just go with that. No offense."
"None taken," gasps out Heflam, just behind him.
Dane cries back from the lead position, "I think we may have more important things to worry about for now."
...as you all screech to a halt. The fleet-footed Imperial scout has led you to large jungle clearing of rocky red soil. As you all burst out of the jungle, you see the scout on the opposite side of the clearing, passing through a line of Imperial soldiers, who are armored and armed with bows, arrows on string, pointed at you. More troops close in from the jungle behind you, cutting off your escape.
The scout approaches a better-dressed Imperial, with an officer's crest on his helmet. He salutes, Imperial style, with a raised left arm. "Scout Lucas reporting sir. We found them. Sorry to report that Scouts Klaatu, Niktu and Barada have been killed, sir."
"Good work, Captain Scout Lucas," says the officer. "We'll take it from here. Get back to the garrison and get yourself some wine."
The scout disappears into the far side of the jungle. The officer turns and looks at you over his kneeling bowmen. He leans down to one, murmurs in his ear, and hands him a bright-red arrow with a glittering dark head. Looks like obsidian. The bowman puts the arrow on the string, scanning the sky above the clearing.
He doesn't have long to wait. With a shriek, Chip comes plummeting out of the sky towards the officer. The troops watch, rapt, as the bowman fires the red arrow. With a shriek of another kind, Chip plunges into the jungle, flailing his wings.
The officer looks pleased, and pats his bowman on the shoulder. "Fine shot. Just like the priest said." He looks up at you.
"There are fifty Imperial soldiers in this clearing. If you want to leave it alive, drop your weapons now. Better a prisoner than a corpse, like your dragon."
The arrows are nocked, the bowmen looking you in the eye. Behind you and a little to the side, the spearmen have their weapons lowered, and are also looking you in the eye. Fighting would be suicide.
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Twix
They've got us in a tent, guards posted out front. Our eyes are covered and our hands and feet are bound. A rope joins us at the ankles.
I keep telling myself that Chip isn't dead. He's a dragon, for gods' sake. He's lived almost a hundred years, he can't be taken down by a single arrow! But I have no way of knowing that for sure. Maybe if we'd had more time, I'd be able to feel him out there, but it's only been a few days, despite all that's happened.
Even if he survived, even if the arrow merely struck his wing, he wouldn't be able to fly... at least not for a while. Wings are delicate things, after all.
Heflam and Bomb keep whispering to each other, but I can't make out what they're saying. I can feel Gepetto fidget though. I don't feel much like talking to him. As far as I'm concerned it was his impetuousness that got us here. Always rushing off without looking to see where he's going.
This is a bad place. The Imperials have killed prisoners here before. I can see them, through cloth around my eyes. They have no love for the Imperials, but I don't think they much care for us either. I try to avoid their gaze, but I know that they're watching me.
The others don't know it, but I can see all of them, or at least I can see their souls. If I had a weapon, that could be useful... well, if I was good with weapons it'd be useful.
They'll probably kill us at midnight. That's the usual time. Build a fire, bring out the priests, make an offering to the god de jour.
I look along the surface of the ground for small souls, scurrying souls. In the woods, near where the Imperials have been dumping their trash, I "see" a rat. I pull it to me.
I haven't tried this with a living soul before, but rats are pretty easy to manipulate, it seems. Small brain, but curious enough to follow impulses. It scurries to the back of our tent and wriggles under the flap.
"Do you hear something?" Gepetto hisses.
"Sh-shut up" I whisper, "keep still."
"Don't get uppity with me..." he starts.
"Shut it. Give the kid a break. I've got a good idea I know what just came into the tent." It's Heflam. Gepetto sputters for a moment and gets a kick from Bombr and finally holds his tongue.
The rat begins to gnaw at the ropes at my wrists.
"Got any more friends, kid?" Heflam whispers.
"D-don't want to at-t-tract attention." I manage.
"See if you can get some big friends as close as the edge of the camp. We're going to need some help."
With my hands free, I untie the others.
"It's a massacre any way you slice it," I whisper. Dane, Bombr, Gepetto, and I hunch in a circle around the hastily scribbled map that we've etched into the tent's dirt floor.
Pointing, Dane gives us yet another option. "We could pour out the tent flap and assume the Crying Starfish. There are five of us." We all cast a glance at Twix, sitting cross-legged, eyes shut. Maybe he really can bring us some larger help. Although, seeing the camp overrun by an army of rats or pigeons might be intriguing.
"We don't have any weapons," observes Bombr.
"And they took my necklaces," whines Gepetto, "and my bracelets, and my rings. My rings!"
Dane shrugs. "At least they left us our clothes."
"Thank Fcuk for small favors in your case, I guess." I share a chuckle with the others, except for Bombr, who regards me with a disappointed frown.
Suddenly, Twix lets out an exasperated exhale, as if he'd been holding his breath this whole time. Slumping forward, he catches himself with one outstretched hand. The rest of us get to our feet and stare at him for a moment.
"Well?" we ask in unison.
He gazes up at us like a wary stowaway.
"Wait."
We all scowl in his general direction. I swear I could hear Dane's eyes roll in his head.
Then, it starts. The shouts. The screams. The cries for mother. The sounds of snapping timber and heavy, rhythmic footfalls. Shadows play across the inside of the tent, oblong figures going in every direction.
We carefully lift the flap, allowing each of us to peer outside at the unspeakable horror.
Rabbits. Massive beasts, tall as horses. They leap to and fro about the now burning camp, jumping over some soldiers, landing on and maiming others. Mayhem.
We watch awestruck for a few moments.
"G-G-Guess it wuh-worked."
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