Pristalwhisp

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Photo credit: Discovery Channel, UK

Cassandra’s gasp of alarm breathed out as compassion. “Oh, you poor thing!”

The last gleam of daylight glimmered in sunset blue eyes, shadowed and lonely, tired beyond life, sorrowful and aching. Grime and cobwebs overlay a ragged gray coat that didn’t quite cover patches of skin ripped naked bearing scratches, scars, and seeping sores, the trophies of lost battles, the badges of survival.

Lowering herself to the ground, the feline groaned. “Who are you? Have you come to feast on my decay?”

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A Resting Place

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Photo credit: hdw.eweb4.com

Backing out of the cavern’s entrance, Arturo whispered, “Come on, Cassandra! We can’t stay here!”

“Yes, we can,” she hissed. “We won’t hurt you,” she called. “We’re just looking for a safe place to rest. Surely there’s room for all of us in here.”

An enormous body shifted the air as it rose and moved laboriously out of the hollow to lie down in the last of the light. Deep guttural sounds became rumbled words.

“Are you ready to die?”

To be continued. . .

Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .

Fergus Eugene O’Shay

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Photo credit: Suhaib Ayaz

Vernon took a step back. “I’m sorry, but why I should trust you? For all I know, you’ve been confined because you’re a raving lunatic or a bloodthirsty murderer or—”

“—an honest fool who celebrated his best mate’s weddin’ with a wee bit too much nectar. I tell ya, me boyo, it’s humiliatin’ enough ta hafta admit to a total stranger that I got meself stuck in this embarrassin’ predicament — can ya even begin imaginin’ the grief me wife’s gonna bless me with when I git home? I’m dead sober now. When I git home, I’m just gonna be dead.”

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Where’d Everybody Go?

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Photo credit: trinixy
“And Vernon?” you ask.

Weakening with each wingbeat, Vernon struggled back across the meadow, determined to take Spike down even if it meant his own death.

Sunset gilded the grass tips as he landed on the flower Cassandra had been clinging to. Peering into its bowl, he saw nothing but shadows. “I know this is the right spot. Where is everybody? What happened here?”

“Sure an’ I saw what happened, laddie,” a chirpy voice rose from the grass. “If ya can be gittin’ me out o’ here, I’d be more than happy ta tell ya ahl about it.”

Vernon dropped to the ground and stumbled in pain and surprise. Bowls of Death weren’t the only traps in this field.

To be continued. . .

Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .

Who’s There?

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Photo credit: wallconvert.com
“What about Cassandra and Arturo?” You. Wondering.

“Do you think we could rest for a little while, Arturo?” Cassandra asked. “I’m so tired I don’t think I could go any further if Mr. D’Arc himself were chasing us.”

“When he finds out you’re gone, believe me, he will be. He’s scarier than Spike.” Arturo took to the air to scan the area. He called down to the Princess, “Our only hope is to hide because we sure won’t be able to outrun him, and I’d never be able to fight him and win.”

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Web Master

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Photo credit: Michael Q. Powell

D’Arc’s triumphant cry so close on his tail shattered Vernon’s freezing terror of the deathtrap in front of him.

Banking hard to the left, he brushed the web with the tip of his right wing as he dove behind the smaller stickiness protruding from its center, narrowly avoiding the behemoth now skimming down a radial line to investigate the vibrations.

A soft twaanggg invited him to look back.

“What de hell…?”

To be continued. . .

Previously, on Elliot’s Adventures ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Next time . . .

Race to the Finish-Him-Off Line

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Photo credit: joruba

When Vernon came to, the buzzing in his brain swelled, seeming to fill the air with a fuzzy shadow that slowly took shape as his eyes fought to focus.

It was D’Arc.

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Fight to the Finish

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Photo credit: Ernie Cooper

Spike jerked around so quickly, Vernon’s stinger sliced, but didn’t stab, and as he pulled back to strike again, Spike slashed out, drawing a searing cut across Vernon’s chest.

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Honor-Bound

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Photo credit: William H.

Vernon turned to Cassandra. “Princess, you must be strong. Think of Elliot. I swear we will bring you home.”

“That’s so sweet,” Spike gushed, “isn’t it, Cassie? Still, you’ve gotta wonder why old Elli isn’t here himself. Hm. Maybe he’s smarter than he looked.”

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A Slippery Slope

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Photo credit: Nathan Ng

“Well if it isn’t Vernon the Valet-ison,” Spike sneered, reclining on a curved leaf, attended by an impossibly handsome young wasp. “I hafta admit, I didn’t expect her to send you. Arturo, bring our guest something to eat; he’s looking a little peak-ed. Or is it ‘piqued’?”

He looked Vernon up and down as the blushing Arturo, eyes downcast, sped off in the direction of the battered butterfly. “Sit,” Spike instructed, “let’s catch up.”

“I don’t have time to indulge you, Spike. Show me the Princess so I can report back to the Queen before she wonders what happened to me.”

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