The Final Feast

Chapter 13

Sandman curled between the branches of a large swamp tree. The bats had taken a large chunk out of the boa's side, and it had struggled to make it back. It made sure to check on Corvi. She was the daughter of the fastest argentavis to ever live, and might by the Island's only chance at stopping the rise of the blind ones. Sandman hissed in pain as its wound scrapped against the bark of the tree. Somehow, it had managed to bite all of the bats at least once, sending them almost immediatly so the boa could make its escape. Sandman shut its eyes and tried to sleep.

(The next paragraph is told from the perspective of the Máng Nù. Might be a little confusing since they don't really think.)

The silence of the cave was interrupted by a loud snort. A hiss passed between the perked ears at the cave's ceiling: Food. The hisses became shieks and the quiet was replaced with the screeching associated with the arrival of an unfortunate guest. Ears became useless in all of the noise. It was all up to smell now. The scent belonged to phiomia, not a filling meal, but enough to make a snack at least. There was the distinct squeal of the phiomia, almost immediatley drowned out by the sound of flesh being ripped and bone being crushed. The feeding was over the second the last bone had disappeared. The shrieking ended and the colony returned to the ceiling. They held still, listening, waiting for another victim to befall their fangs. If the wait grew too long, they would have to find a victim themselves.