Primal Gambit

Chapter 65: Mutation Pt. 1

Thumping rotors pounded against the night sky. The airship that the sound bred from was too far off to see, though she could feel it coming from miles off. Leaning back on her haunches, forearms straight-legged and implanted into the rust under her paws, she watched intently. Head and neck poised against the distance, catching scents beyond the border outpost that had been scorched by the chop shoppers, her pack may have gained the opportunity to feed for the first time in weeks.

A slender body adorned with patches of silky charcoal fur and thin limbs that ended in thick claws which split into multiple razor-sharp shards, no one knew what species she mutated from. Her pack was nearby, gaining what rest there was to be had out there in the killing fields. The minds of the mutated were little more than instinctual tendencies and the idea of hunting lead to killing – lead to feeding – lead to the nourishment of her cubs.

Strange barbs dotted her thin frame; researchers from the Inner City assumed they were defense mechanisms which secreted a type of stinging poison – contact to the skin resulting in the melting of flesh and necrosis. Her skull was the largest of the pack, a heavy-hanging maw that never closed due to the sheer number of fangs haphazardly placed within. Had an outcast challenged the clan it was she who defended it, not a male as it had been proven with most other packs.

Any exile who attempted to fight their way into the pack was quickly dispatched with a feral sense of protection. The barbs on her back would shoot up in a horrifying display of dominance. If the outcast proceeded further on silent paws, the alpha female would tear into it with tooth and claw until naught was left but strips of meat for the clan to yip over. It was common for males to maim and consume their young; females would not bring harm to offspring unless a food source was impossible to track down. This female was such a strong alpha that not a single cub had been lost to the struggles within.

Knobby shoulder blades protruded from her thin hide as she nestled into place on the hilltop. She had grown so accustomed to slithering between heaps of rust and decay that she found comfort lying amongst it. Nests were typically located in higher elevated areas of The Yard, built from debris and a sticky residue secreted from the body that was used to hold it all together. It was typical for wandering scavengers or chop shoppers to happen past a massive nest located on the peak of the tallest dilapidated crane or the tilted fuselage of an old airship.

The alpha was leading her pack through The Yard in search of a new location to create a hive. Their previous dwelling had been detonated weeks prior by a group of trappers looking to snare the beasts for profit, either in fighting pits or for warlords in the outlying boroughs. When she felt the reverberating engines rumbling in the ground, her instincts lead her to deal with the threat before continuing the search.

Whatever she decided was the best course of action, based solely on methods of survival bred into her, the rest of the pack would obey. To contradict the orders that were barked from one kin to the next would result in becoming exiled from the pack – to be consumed by equally vicious horrors in the massive and lawless expanse. They would stalk those who landed in the ships to no end until the trespassers were either dead or dispersed from her territory.

It was not callous intent that coursed through her deformed veins but rather a provoked need to look after the clan.

The higher the nest was constructed, the better chance the mutated had at survival. To find a great spire that prodded the clouds would be the best location possible – where the threat of chop shoppers, hunters, trappers, and Fossil would simply gaze upward in horrific awe of the beauty of her creation. She would find it – her life depended on it.

But for now, she was on the hunt. The pack had recently found a pool of toxic sludge, from which they lapped water into their agape, toothy jaws and continued only when they could barely slug themselves away. The Yard had an evolving ecosystem, one that could thrive on the harshly volatile liquid that could kill an Inner City denizen had they ingested too much.

The search for a suitable area to create a hive would be the next instinct – though first the group sought after a fresh kill to consume.

With any luck the roving airship would bring what they were after.

In a deep valley, the pack rested as the ever-vigilant alpha surveyed the course of the Reaper. She knew from past hunts where they oftentimes landed; watching the trajectory of the ship allowed her to understand that they were going to land in the same region, surrounded by the shells of old tanks and chassis of wrecked vehicles.

A low grunt became a provoked growl as she curiously observed the soaring airship. When the wounded prey was diminished enough to begin feeding, she would have to fight for her life to allow her cubs to feast from the corpses before any other beasts. As the Reaper descended from the air, kicking up dust and shrapnel nearby, her growls became cackling barks that would surely rouse the suspicion of the betas in her clan.

One by one, they rose to the calls that echoed off the metal canopies nearby. Clouds covered the moon and whirling ash began to trickle down from above. The mutated that inhabited the wasteland were more than accustomed to the tainted climate – some even used the deformed weather patterns to shroud themselves as they stalked prey in the night.

A dense layer of rust-colored fog hovered ominously. The alpha could feel the Reaper better than she could see it – her muscular arms planted into the earth, interest piqued. To her, the massive metal brute was an animal no less horrifying than anything else she had crossed in the junkyard. Whether it breathed or fed on desiccated corpses or sought shelter to rest her wings was unknown to the alpha – but whenever the brood escaped her stomach upon landing, she was sure the entire group was living, with pulses that could be stopped.

Claws composed of fortified keratin clicked against the metal under her paws. As the ship soared past, cutting the fog apart with forward-facing blades and moving onward – deeper into The Yard, she lifted her entire body. Her massive skull cocked backwards as her nostrils aimed into the air. The alpha roared so loud it shook the valley beneath, reverberating through the steel sheets that were buried under the ground. The entire clan rose, in fear at first that they were being hunted by a predator much larger. As soon as they awoke, they understood the call.

The hunt was on.