Page 38 of Caveman Alien's Terror

“They just hatched,” I realize. “Look, they all came out of eggs that cracked when they hit the ground!”

There are shards of broken eggs on the ground all over the room.

“More bad news,” Praxigor grunts. “Newly hatched creatures usually don’t know what’s best for them.”

“And they often need to eat right away,” I add.

The newcomers take a few seconds to orient themselves. The ones from further away come running towards us at a fast trot, mouths wide open. The ones that are closer start to run in circlesaround us, fluidly avoiding the slender trees. Soon they’re all doing it, whirling around us, faster and faster until they’re just a gray blur as the circle tightens. They give off thinyipsounds, which is much creepier than loud barks would be.

I point the torch at them, wishing it burned with a bigger flame. “I think they wantus.”

The brushfangs start jumping on each other’s backs in a movement that must be instinctive. In the blink of an eye they’re whirling around us from the ground up to eye level, forming a franticallyyippingtornado of snapping jaws. With us in the middle.

It’s an effective tactic — it’s impossible to focus on just one of the creatures, and it’s incredibly confusing. If I were a dinosaur, I would have no idea how to defend myself against these things. It’s surprisingly intimidating.

“They do appear interested,” the dragon muses. “But surely they can’t be stupid enough to actually?—”

He doesn’t get further before the mass of predators attacks. Using the speed they’ve built up, they tighten the tornado and snap their terrible jaws with hard clicks as they pass. They remind me of a pack of piranhas.

“Fool’sgold!” Praxigor exclaims as some of the brushfangs bite onto his hands and fingers and stay attached, dangling with their full weight. “Voracious beasts!” He shakes them off, but I notice some golden specks on his hands that look like his ichor.

These things are actually attacking him. And they’re succeeding.

13

- Astrid-

My skin creeps as I use the wooden torch to hit at the predators. But despite being just hatched, they easily evade my strokes until I thrust the burning torch into the whirlwind of attackers. It disrupts their flow, but then they start to focus on me. Their snapping jaws close in, and something tugs at my hair.

Before any of them can bite onto me for real, Praxigor grabs me and runs, slapping away the small attackers. “This place is actively guarded. Now I’m sure there’s something here worth guarding.”

The wind whistles past my ears as he storms away from the pack, zigzagging between plants and bushes until we’ve put the brushfangs far behind us. But they’re coming after us, so this was only a temporary escape.

A green and black shape shoots past us.

“Luna!” I exclaim. “Follow her, Praxigor!” I don’t know why I say it, probably just because I think we’ll be stronger if all three are together.

To my surprise, the dragon follows my suggestion and catches up with the stevik.

Luna does a quick turn and rushes straight back towards the pursuing pack, but now Praxigor doesn’t follow her.

“I have no desire to seek out injury,” he growls. “Or worse.”

And Luna’s actions do look suicidal. She’s smaller than those newly hatched dinos, and while her teeth and claws are impressive, and her tails are in their most war-like configuration, on her own she’s not as scary as the brushfangs. There are dozens of them and only one of her.

Praxigor goes under one of the light holes and lifts me to the ceiling. “I think you’ll fit inside. I’ll push you in, and you can stay there.”

I see his point. If I can find a foothold inside that light pipe, I’ll be out of his way.

Putting one hand on the rocky ceiling to steady myself, I gaze over at Luna. “Wait.”

The pack tries to form their tornado of intimidation, but Luna ignores it and seeks out a single member of the pack to attack. That brushfang panics and runs wildly away from his pack mates, and Luna chases him away. Unable to find a hiding place, he flees to the stairs and bounces up them as if his life depends on it. Which it probably does.

Luna doesn’t slow down. She zooms right back to the pack, which is now in a confused disarray trying to keep up withher. She repeats the tactic, seeks out one of the brushfangs and chases it up the stairs.

After a couple of more times, the pack is so close to the stairs that they suddenly all have the same idea and run upstairs, moving as one, like a flock of starlings.

Luna runs after them and disappears into the darkness of the upstairs level. This level is suddenly very quiet.

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