Chapter 43
An inch at a time, Selati scrunched his tail up. Under his trunk. Tighter. Tighter. Muscles clenched. Footsteps doubled for a split second.
Selati sprang, fast and sharp. Spear sliced down. Red bloomed in the dirty air. Agony split through his shoulder. Selati hissed at the surprised face under the muddy helmet. The human crumbled to the dirt, but there was no pull on his arm.
For a second, Selati blinked. He looked at his spear in his hand.
Where was his arm? 11
Hands grabbed at his waist and back. Pulled Selati down into the dark curve of the rocks and a blur of skin, scales, faces, red-black, flew by. Where was his arm? His spear? He needed to get back to Aleledai.
A cold chill raced through his body, tiny bumps rippling to the surface like the lake water closing over his head. Nothing felt right. His arm didn’t hurt. No arm there to hurt. A bubble burst in Selati’s throat. Noise. A giggle.