>>6070280Gathered around the remnants of the old field was every person in town not yet working. Children, their grandparents, and what few folks had been injured poorly enough to be exempt from building work or shop care.
Atop the rocks burying the old field was one of the bipedal anteaters you vaguely remembered from your first true encounter.
From its mouth spewed a continuous stream of <span class="mu-r">fire.</span>
Pure, heaven-scorned, <span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-i">fire</span></span>.
Further flames left its wrists, flowed through its veins, spewed forth from a great chimney behind its back. Its entire torso seared with heat, the flames radiating from its bulging veins creating an atmosphere so scorching and brutal that you could compare it only to your idea of the sun...
Stars of death provided the only shade to be had around the scene. One lay above the demonic flamethrower, cast dangerously below the flame, now moving--
A great screech split the sky.
The crowd fled.
One of the enormous metal birds came crashing down next to the flaming devil. Another followed.
You stood rooted to the spot.
Children began to shout for their parents. The geriatrics of the town rushed to their families-- you heard them protesting nearly as loudly as the children. The sound of chopping wood and shouting orders began to dwindle.
One of the birds climbed to its feet and grasped the anteater's neck.
The fire was cut short. You heard a muffled scream from the demon. One of the alloyed birds that'd remained aflight now dove, drilling its beak into the anteater's skull, joined by its companions in the brutal endeavour not long after.
You turned to run, tripping over yourself but briefly, heading in the general direction that you knew you'd come from, desperate and trying not to panic and awed and unsure.
You needed your trunk, where you were. You were-- Cora, she would be safe-- this was no time for <span class="mu-i">notes.</span>
You found your trunk. You FOUND YOUR--
