Glad you could join us for the next interrupting episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…
Vernon’s tale will have to wait. Bog is under attack.
The rabid reds raced north toward the center of Bog, pursued by the Knights of Service. Marauders slithered unchecked from the northern border on a collision course to meet them. Devastation lay in their wake.
Everywhere, alarms spread through Bog like signal fires flaring their warnings to ignite other signal fires further on, outracing the danger, rousing defenders, saving innocent lives.
Knights of Service, already worn or wounded from the battle in the south, rallied to the call even though their muscles wailed in protest. Echoing the cry, they converged on the enemy.
Connie’s wings burned with fatigue, but nearing the center of Bog, she could finally see home. She flung herself toward death and destruction in a dire attempt to pass the lead Marauders. She screamed to the little ones just beyond her reach, playing in their yard, oblivious to the threat streaking toward them.
“Children! Get inside! Get inside!” Connie’s cry strained to be heard before the hissing evil roiling beneath her could touch them.
Her eldest child, with fear-wide eyes, rushed to herd the rest to shelter. Except for the youngest.
Bitsy heard her mother and ran to meet her, instantly distracted by the serpent coming her way so quickly and waving its black tongue so invitingly right outside the yard. Her eldest sister dashed back trying to grab her hand and pull her in.
Horrified, Connie shrieked and dove straight at the flicking fork, clamping on with all her might, biting into its tender skin. She tasted blood.
With a howl of pain, the enemy’s jaw sprang open to draw her into final darkness.
Connie closed her eyes and prepared to die.
A sudden jolt sent her tumbling to the ground. Staggering to her feet, she stole one glance behind her as she ran for her door. The serpent’s fangs were now descending on the Knight who yanked his spear from the Marauder’s side with little hope of making a second cut.
The battle had begun.
To be continued. . .