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Previous thread >>5506172
tgc https://questden.org/kusaba/quest/res/1043923.html#1053670
She crawled on four legs, sliding a claw along the ground where she'd heard the pistol, and felt it crawl up her arm as she approached the window. Maybe she could line up a shot and rid herself of this before it became a bigger trouble; Who knew how long it'd take to grow up?
Easy. Just shoot a kid in the back.
More screeching. Another crack and more chewing.
Just kill a kid, this one without even an empty cradle to leave behind. Kill it -her- because she might delay her. What is a kid but a bother, after all? Weight and warmth in one's arms, heavy as the world and light as a feather and so heavy it comforts you and so light it might flutter away at any time? What is a kid but grief? But the shaking in her claws, no, her whole body? Her little bundle of-
“Enough.”
She stopped the trembling but couldn't bring herself to move. Had the girl been attacking her it might've been easier, might've given her a chance to let herself drown in a mix of training and thoughtless instinct that can only end with someone dead. But, try as she may, she couldn't convince herself that was the case either. The sight before might've been a thing bearing down on her that was too big and dangerous to pacify harmlessly, but the truth of her eye, she reflected, was a lost babe trying to survive in this crushing hollowness of a desert.
But then what would she do? The lonomia would hunt her, and she needed at least some advantage. It was true that she couldn't wait- if she did she might miss her unit, were they still alive. And the mater of the wounded bug remained.
She crawled back and sat, her back against the wall. After a while the lonomia stopped eating and she heard it run into the distance, though the scarabs bellow were still screeching and stumbling over themselves. What to do?
tgc https://questden.org/kusaba/quest/res/1043923.html#1053670
She crawled on four legs, sliding a claw along the ground where she'd heard the pistol, and felt it crawl up her arm as she approached the window. Maybe she could line up a shot and rid herself of this before it became a bigger trouble; Who knew how long it'd take to grow up?
Easy. Just shoot a kid in the back.
More screeching. Another crack and more chewing.
Just kill a kid, this one without even an empty cradle to leave behind. Kill it -her- because she might delay her. What is a kid but a bother, after all? Weight and warmth in one's arms, heavy as the world and light as a feather and so heavy it comforts you and so light it might flutter away at any time? What is a kid but grief? But the shaking in her claws, no, her whole body? Her little bundle of-
“Enough.”
She stopped the trembling but couldn't bring herself to move. Had the girl been attacking her it might've been easier, might've given her a chance to let herself drown in a mix of training and thoughtless instinct that can only end with someone dead. But, try as she may, she couldn't convince herself that was the case either. The sight before might've been a thing bearing down on her that was too big and dangerous to pacify harmlessly, but the truth of her eye, she reflected, was a lost babe trying to survive in this crushing hollowness of a desert.
But then what would she do? The lonomia would hunt her, and she needed at least some advantage. It was true that she couldn't wait- if she did she might miss her unit, were they still alive. And the mater of the wounded bug remained.
She crawled back and sat, her back against the wall. After a while the lonomia stopped eating and she heard it run into the distance, though the scarabs bellow were still screeching and stumbling over themselves. What to do?
