Still writing shitty first-draft OC.The Long Claw
You stop, beside a stream, with your mate and child. You look back, at the valley far off, and think of home. Two other members of your group stand guard, scanning the trees. You wait, still wary of the darkening woods, for your mate and child to dip their mouths down to the water before you relax and bend for a drink. You lift your head just as one of the others touches you, taps you, and nods their head towards the low area behind you. You alert your mate and child, and everyone looks to the low space, to the edges of a clearing.
They are there, long-limbed, strangely tall, moving in your direction. Your group begins backing away slowly, moving to hide behind the bushes and trees, out of sight, when the things all suddenly crouch down, looking away from you. Seizing the moment, you spur your group away, fleeing as silently as possible from the idling threat.
You look back several times, and see nothing.
It is night already when you find a good cave, one with a wide but short entrance, but a comfortable space within. Your friends immediately lay down to sleep, tired from keeping many days' guard. You play with your child a little before it tires, and curls up to sleep beside your mate. You sit next to them, quietly watching the entrance, until your eyes begin to close.
A scratching sound wakes you. Eyes snapping open, you see it in the low moonlight - the long limb ending in the weirdly splayed paw, feeling around the cave mouth. Slowly and without a sound, you rouse your group, push them against the opposite side of the entrance. The thing's head appears around the bend, and you stifle a cry at the disgusting thing, smooth and furless, large white eyes searching; your comrades give you a look and you pass this to your mate, who holds the child closer. A moment, and then a flash of movement - all rush out, out and away, but the thing cries out and another appears, as if by magic, waving its long, long arms, unnatural claw lashing. There is a fire searing through your leg but you push your mate and child ahead; you feel as if you can not run, but you do, and the only time you look back, you see them, the things, tearing into your friend, your friends, twitching, the things, the thing, the one who looks up and back at you.
You stop, beside a stream, with your mate. It has been a few hours, and you listen ever vigilant to the sound of the Post too long. Click here to view the full text.