Squib Ep.22 - Lizard Roast
(Start at the beginning here)
Squib gnawed intently on a leg of lizard as the rain poured down around him. He eyed his new companion as he did, watching as she fiddled with her trinket, plucked from the depths of the sunken ruin that they’d narrowly escaped from. Over and over she turned it, thinking on something beyond Squib’s comprehension, a wondering beyond wonder itself, a look of question, contemplation, or consideration. Squib didn't like it, but then he hadn't liked anything to do with this girl since the Witch sent him to find her. It wasn't personal, Squib had an aversion to most people. It was simply the safest way to approach relationships with others, especially others who had odd maps painted on their backs, and miraculously appearing amulets turning over in their possession.
Squib gave the carcass roasting over the fire a turn on its spit and offered Anna, not for the first time, a strip of meat to sate herself. He hadn't seen her feed since finding her which, considering she was injured, and that she’d tussled with the Boggers, and she’d been drenched in the rain, it was something of a concern. Not that Squib harbored any compassion for the woman, in fact quite the opposite. He was hovering somewhere around disdain. However, should she become ill, or fall for some unforeseen reason, Squib feared how the Witch might react. It was a wonder what the old hag thought one Goblin could do. Yet the instruction for safety had been quite clear, and Squib had no desire to test the Witch's temper- anymore than he already had. Once again, Anna with the two bandanas declined his offer, which only added fuel to the fire of Squib’s sense of self preservation.
It seemed a waste really. Squib considered it fortunate to find the campsite before the rising waters made it too difficult to travel. They’d come across a trio of Gray Goblins, a fire already blazing, a catch of freshly skinned Lizards ready to cook, and a shelter with which to do it under. Squib couldn't have wished for better. Now the Gray’s lay dead- discarded as far as they could be thrown down the bank; The meat was roasted- well done and a touch rubbery, if only in Squib’s opinion; and the canopy they’d set was now serving its new masters. Squib, at least, was happier for the turn of events and, as troublesome as the human girl had been, she’d certainly proven her worth with the sharp end of a blade. That also meant that for one moment, one very brief moment, Squib had appreciated the pleasure of her company. Why she wouldn't celebrate by eating their spoils, even just on principle, Squib could not understand.
Squib polished off a bone and threw it over his shoulder, licking his greasy fingers clean to add to the satisfaction of a full stomach. His eyes drifted out into the swamp, a haze of water marked with the shadowy outlines of trees. The rain didn't look as though it would be clearing any time soon, and the conclusion that they would be sleeping on their little mound of earth was an accepted reality. Squib’s mind drifted to the potential course of coming events. They would reach the Witch’s lair soon enough, assuming she didn't come to find them first. The rising waters weren't exactly conducive to travel, which Squib knew the Witch would consider. With the girl safely made her meeting, The Witch would fulfill their deal and hand over the remaining handfuls of purple powder. Then, and only then, Squib could journey his way into the Sanctuary, and conclude his trade of trades with the Ancient One. Sweet was the outlook of the future, should all things go according to plan. So far, it seemed nothing had.
A splash erupted behind him. Squib’s eyes flicked to Bandana, her head rising up, up, up toward the canopy of trees that loomed over everything that crawled around the swamp. The shock set her gasping, her sockets white orbs with fully dilated pupils that expanded throughout the middle. On an instinct, Squib lurched forward, bounding into the air to clear Bandana’s shoulders with a single leap. In the same instant, whatever was coming up behind him had driven Bandana to stumble backward, her heels catching on the log she’d been using as a stool, and toppling onto her ass with a dagger already in her hand.
The Witch, purple powder, the safety of the girl, none of it mattered now. All that mattered was that Squib clear the campfire, land beyond his companion-now-become-bait, and disappear off the sanctuary island to submerge beneath the depths of the risen waters. It wasn't much of a plan, it wasn't any sort of a plan, but it was what Squib had and there wasn't any part of him that was about to tell him otherwise.
Squib sailed through the air for a moment, secure in his motion before the clasp of cloak around his neck stopped short. The Goblin swung, choked by his own attire, and with legs kicking traveled back the other way. The huge bulk of a beast moved into view, too close to take in but discernible by the wall of blue tinted scales covering its body. Arms and legs thick as branches, tipped with claws, and wielding a spear pressed forward with considerable speed. It’s chest heaved, a menacing hiss issuing from the back of it’s slightly agape mouth. It’s eyes roamed, searching for any offending, weapon carrying appendage that it might clamp down on with rows of jagged teeth. The monster leveled the tip of its spear toward Bandana’s throat, pinning her between the earth and certain death, while hoisting Squib up into the air before it’s maw while its tongue lolled out, preparing to eat him.
There came the sound of a ping, not so unlike the sound of a pin drop. Instead, Squib had worked the knife he’d kept from Bandana up under his collar, and sliced the hem, clasp and all, setting him free. He landed on his feet and snarled, baring his teeth before leaping at the Lizardman’s leg. He sprung off the knee, grabbing an arm, and flinging himself up to sit crossed legged around one of the beasts broad shoulders. He held the knife high in two hands, a necessary precaution to handle the Lizardman’s thick hide, and brought it down at the base of the neck where artery ran beyond its ledge of muscle. The knife punctured soft scale, slipping between bones, and protruding the opposite side of the Lizardman’s opposing hand as he raised it to catch the blow. He grasped, catching Squib’s clenched fists and the knife in their entirety, and dragging him off his shoulder with incomparable strength.
The Lizardman held Squib before him once again, hissing with combined anger and hatred. But before he could act on any of it, his head cocked sideways, the wrath seemed to ebb, and in its place a leering, peering realization took root.
“Ssquib Greenskin?” Herule asked in his Lizardman tongue.
“Hello, Herule,” Squib replied with a growl.
Herule spat his disgust to one side and hurled Squib out into the rain soaked earth of the other. He yanked the knife free of his palm with a grunt that seemed more annoyance than pain, and tossed it along after him. Both Goblin and knife landed with a splosh. As they fell, Bandana rose, Herule relinquishing the domination his spear held over her neck.
Propped up on her elbows, a knife clutched in each hand, Bandana watched as the huge Lizardman took over Squibs seat, and began crunching bodily on the roasted Lizard he’d just procured from the spit.
“Friend of yours?” She asked.
“No, not really,” Squib frowned as water ran down the crease on his face. “Fucking Lizardmen.”
(Continue to Ep.23)
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