Exton

The Unformed Plane - Day Six

Drai has been following the beast's spoor for the last three hours. That's what he calls it, "spoor". I dunno... sounds kinda nasty to me. "Excuse me, sir, are you aware you're leaking spoor?" "I am? Eeewwww, gross!"

Anyway, whatever it is, he's following it....

And then - HOLY SHIT! - it's right in front of us. Eight feet tall, covered with coarse orange - ORANGE! - fur, with a ring of bony protrusions encircling its neck. Massive lower jaw studded with fangs, piggy little eyes ringed with what looks like - I shit you not - aquamarine eye shadow, and smelling like a randy polecat that just rolled in a nice fresh pile of coyote shit. (Thank you, Stephen King!)

It crouches and roars, looking like a cross between the wolfman and a pissed-off Wookie, except Chewie never had an eighteen-inch hard-on as thick as my bicep. I fight back my first impulse (to scream like a little girl and run like hell in any direction, so long as it's AWAY) and bring the shotgun to my shoulder, sighting on the massive chest. The gun kicks and roars and the thing bellows as the iron eats into its flesh. I follow up with a second shot while my ears are still ringing from the first. It hits in the same place and blood explodes from deep within - the candy-apple red of heart's blood - drenching the orange pelt. It sways on its feet, trying to find the breath to roar defiance, and I ready the gun for another shot; but the iron made cheesecloth of its lungs, and it crumples without uttering a sound.

For a moment there's dead silence; then a great swelling roar goes up from the whole safari and I'm being passed overhead from hand to hand like a box of Cracker Jacks, feeling faint and trying really hard not to puke on the nice people....