The mandrill stumbled back on dizzy legs. Anele's were still rooted to the spot.
"Careful."
It found its feet and snarled, glaring at her with something more primal than anger, and meaner. Tendrils of yellow mist wafted out its maw, filling the air with the thick stench of sulphur and carrion. Poison aura.
"Not scared of frogs, either," Anele said.
Those red eyes pierced through her with pure malicious intent.
Three more shadows climbed over the dune, flanking the mandrill with the same potent mist in their jaws. They were smaller, and their souls weren't as heavy, but four killers were more than one.
The chief mandrill barked and the desert echoed.
"Like I said, friend, everything but the stoneiris."
There was nothing natural about the way its snout twisted, nor the word that came out of it.
"Soul," the mandrill said, pointing at the boar.
"You'll live without it, trust me."
"Soul," it said again, and the troop advanced.
They could have rushed her at once, forced her to defend one side and flanked the other. They could have smothered her in a swirl of dust and teeth and thick black claws. It would have been a violent, suffocating end, but quick.
But this was an ambush only by name. They took their time.
YOU ARE READING
Earthwitch
FantasyAnele is dying, but that's nothing new. As an Earthwitch with a shattered soul, she's spent most of her life trying not to, but lately, the void eating through her keeps growing. And now, she's caught the attention of something worse than death -- a...
