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I trek through the jungle, blowing bangs out of my eyes and ignoring the sunlight that is slightly stinging me. I can tell we are nearing the sea from the sound of the water. The sky has never been so clear for years ever since I can remember and the forest air is fresh. The younger trees now bore leaves of a clean, green colour, looking much healthier than the dull ones on the older trees, though they now bore more fruit and flowers. Our birds are perched chirping on the dark gray branches of the trees, invisible in the sunlight.
Our army has been trekking for hours and I prod Dad with a stick I had found on the forest floor earlier this morning. He turns around, grunting. I gesture towards a pond nearby and he nods. Our men scramble for it and I follow suit. The water in the pond is crystal clear. Scraping some moss from the sides of the stones, I walk back and pass it over to Dad, who looks at me with the warmth he reserves just for me. I scrape some over the hole in his tank to seal it for him. Then, I return to the pond to get more for myself. I munch on the greens. It feels cool and refreshing; the tubes lining the sides of my arms are slowly filling to the brim with bubbling blue acid. My personal weapon, one that belongs solely to the leader’s right-hand man.
Dad lets us rest longer than usual and by the time we are done, the sun has gone down. Our army seems to have grown twice its size with the appearance of our flaming brothers. We continue trekking out of the forest, Jim walking by my side. Finally, we hear the loud crashing of the waves and slow to a stop at the edge of the trees. Then, Dad lets out a low grunt and we move in unison, seeking cover among the trees. I peek out over Jim’s shoulder, his flames lighting up the distance not far from us.
There they are, three humans, strolling down the beach, talking. I can smell something choking, pungent coming from one of them. I have never smelled that from a human before. We wait for a sign from the waters. Then, a low hum of the songs of the sea fills in air. They are ready. Dad gives a low grunt and all of us get into our positions, poised to attack, our Retchers already eager to charge. The trio looks around in alarm at the ruckus we are making. Then, gurgling noises fill the air as our pirates emerge from the sea, led by Matt in his eye-patch. The trio screams. Dad gives his commanding loud roar and we charge, but Dad holds me back. He signals me with a different grunt. The foul one, kill him, it tells me.
Poor guy, but I have to do as I am told and I move swiftly, digging my razor sharp claws into his chest to inject the luminous blue acid into his heart, paralysing it. After all, Dad is our great leader, and he knows who is fit enough to join us in this new world and who isn’t.
The Final Evolution © 2013 by Auby Sparksfield. All rights reserved.
Written by: Ms. Auby Sparksfield
Edited by: Isaac Tan
Click here for Chapter 8