Not that I’d have been able to alter him even with access to Evolution. The ability did not permit me to enhance mundane creatures; only the god-born ones I’d created.
I could always give the echolocation to Ris’kin…
The thought of my avatar’s features warping to incorporate the cave bat’s upturned leaf-nose was unexpectedly horrifying, and I banished the idea for now.
We were getting close. The next tracks we examined had been made only minutes before, meaning our geographically challenged quarry had to be somewhere nearby.
At the head of the party, Longshank froze, holding up a fist to indicate the rest of us do the same. After a moment I saw what he’d spotted.
The burrow was half-concealed among the mounded roots of a particularly large cedar. The roots curled around the entrance, gnarled and twisted like ancient fingers. Fresh claw marks indicated it had been dug relatively recently. The badger’s tracks led right inside.
We were hunting a badger. We’d followed its tracks to what was clearly a badger den. Things could not have been more straightforward.
So then why were my borrowed senses tingling with wrongness?
Ket’s words came back to me. “This smells like a trap.”
The sprite’s fears were making me paranoid. I’d closed myself off to her, but they were clearly still trickling through our bond and affecting my judgment.
Still, my avatar and I held back as the scouts followed their leader in, creeping closer to the burrow’s entrance. Ris’kin’s shoulder companion had picked up on the tension and fallen silent. I could sense him peeking meekly over his tail, which he’d curled protectively around himself. It tickled Ris’kin’s whiskers whenever she turned her head.
The scouts arrayed themselves around the burrow’s entrance, spears in hand. Longshank, armed with one of the brand-new stonebows, stood further away, weapon raised and aimed at the dark hole in the roots.
At his silent signal, the scouts crept closer. Ris’kin prepared to follow. Then Sir Fura emitted a sudden squeak.
The scouts jumped a little at the sudden noise, then resumed their advance.
The squirrel chattered again. My avatar and I ignored him, but he climbed up onto Ris’kin’s head and tugged on her right ear like the reins of a horse.
What do you want, you mangy little critter? I thought, irritated by the distraction. Then I saw what he was gesturing at.
We’d all been so focused on the burrow, even Longshank, that we’d stopped paying attention to the ground.
The tracks we’d been following led straight into the dark roots, sure enough. But there were also tracks leading away from the burrow. Many sets of tracks. At least four creatures, maybe five.
These tracks had been made an hour ago. And it didn’t take long to determine which direction they were headed. Alarm jolted through me.
We have to get back to the others, I told Ris’kin.
Adrenaline coursing, my avatar sent a silent hand signal to Longshank— “Pull back”—who looked confused but obediently conveyed the order to his scouts.
“Ket! You’re about to have company,” I warned. I sent an image of the tracks, conveying the nature of the coming threat.
My sprite didn’t immediately reply. Before I could try and contact her again, though, our quarry struck.
The instant the first scout turned his back on the burrow, the badger came barreling out like a bullet from a stonebow. Teeth bared, mouth foaming, it bowled over the scouts standing in its way and charged straight for Longshank. Its oddly pink eyes were fixated on the hunter.
The second it made its appearance, Sir Fura squealed a warning, and Ris’kin unsheathed both her half-spears ready for throwing. She needn’t have worried, though. Quick off the mark and true to his hunter instincts, Longshank discharged his weapon right into the creature’s snarling face. The proximity combined with the stonebow’s power meant Longshank’s bullet penetrated its skull in the center of the forehead, dropping it dead in an instant.
I experienced a moment of regret, but only briefly. There’d clearly been no other option. I doubted even Gneil could have placated the rabid-looking creature.
In spite of the shock, I took a moment to marvel at how effective our new weapons were for use in a tight spot. If Longshank had been wielding a regular bow or a sling, the close quarters and sudden attack would have likely caused him to fumble the shot. With the stonebow, however, all he had to do was pull the trigger.
The badger’s deadly charge had been its downfall. But we weren’t out of danger yet.
From the darkness between the roots came a deep snarl. As one, we all peered warily into the lightless lair. Fingers tightened on weapons as the scuffling sounds of something huge grew louder.
I was torn. On one hand, a small force of mad badgers was heading straight for the gnomish refugees. On the other hand, whatever was lurking in this hole did not sound like something we wanted to leave at our backs.
The convoy has our entire force of warriors, as well as Benin and Coll. They can handle themselves well enough.
Longshank reloaded the stonebow, slotting another bullet into the flight groove and pulling back the mechanism until it clicked. He carefully placed the loaded weapon on the ground. With a flurry of silent hand gestures, he then sent the scouts scattering into position. Three disappeared into the trees, arrayed just beyond sight in a rough semi-circle facing the burrow’s entrance. The other two deftly climbed the roots of the massive tree, crouching on the mound above the burrow on either side.
Once ready, each of the five scouts loaded stonebows of their own. I once again gave silent thanks to the universe for having been able to assign carpenters as well as armorers to work on the ranged weapons.
Satisfied the ambush was in place, Longshank nodded once, then picked up
