Shredder XVII
The command was a simple one, and perhaps the most convincing he had ever heard. Run. But from what? Was there a point in running from such a creature, that could rip and rend through the very foundations of the earth? Gerard continued to search the ruins below as the thoughts raced across his mind. Silence smothered the scene, and the survivor inside knew that his rationalizations were little more than dangerous delay. His heart wanted to climb down and search. His head knew better, and his feet, had they been more independent, would have been half a wheel away by now.
The ranger stood and after a few moments of fiddling coordination, relieved himself upon a nearby rock. His eyes glanced to the wreckage below as he reassembled his accoutrements. A flip of his foot sent the steaming rock sailing downward, and his eyes confirmed what his ears had already told him. Silence was the enemy.
The mace head sized stone had descended about half the distance to the shambled clearing before the rocks undulated and sent a granite colored whip skyward to snatch the rock from the air. Gerard was already thirty strides from the precipice, having darted into the shadows the moment the ambusher began to move. His mind imagined well enough the fate of the stony decoy, and he struggled to focus his attentions on the inky terrain ahead. The adrenalin continued to course through him as he once more fell into the drumming rhythms of flight.
To where though? His original destination lay behind him in ruin. He shook his head and grimaced in frustration, taking small solace in the hours available to ponder his problem. He certainly wasn’t going to stop before dawn, despite his low reserves. Even if he could, he felt that sleep would not be forthcoming any time soon.