Gooseberry’s legs shook as she walked back and forth through the corridor, making slow progress. Despite her fear, she stomped aggressively, as if she was trying to scare off a predator. She puffed her cheeks, partially to make herself feel more brave and mostly at the sheer unfairness of the situation. *Goosebewwy nu wan die!" she seethed.
King, the herd’s leader, at least for the time being, watched the foal stomping along ahead of the herd. It was slow this way, and every instinct raged at what they were doing, but…this place used their instincts against them. The wall incident told them that much. As much as he hated to send the foals ahead, they were expendable.
They wandered along, the hard tiles of the floor harsh against their soft hooves. Not quite as irritating as the concrete the herd was used to, from a time before they’d become lost in the endless maze, but hour after hour of walking took its toll. They couldn’t know how long they’d been walking, but soon it would be time to rest.
Gooseberry’s hooves ached horribly, but it was nothing compared to the sharp pain she was expecting any moment. Including her, there were only three foals left, and the last foal to go had been in a…graphic manner. Usually the worst it got was a deep pit into nothingness, which was bad enough, but the way the helpless babbeh’s legs had gotten sliced off by blade moving at nearly-imperceptible speed had convinced Gooseberry that the traps here were getting worse.
“Wan gu sweepies!” she complained loudly, and the rest of the herd gasped sharply, a few hissing for her to be quiet. Noise wasn’t something they should be making here. The…things…were quick, but they were also cruel, delighting in letting the herd stew in terror as they picked them off one by one. Noise was a death sentence.
Wendy, Gooseberry’s mother, agreed softly. The rest of the herd began to squabble quietly as they walked, some wanting to sleep and eat, while others wanted to push on. The longer they were still, the higher the chance of one of the horrific creatures in this place finding them. King, for his part, just walked on stolidly.
Gooseberry finally had enough, and collapsed to the floor dramatically, only to feel a tile shift ever so slightly. She barely had time for her eyes to widen in horror before a long metal spike shattered the tile under her and…well, impale would be the wrong word considering the relative size of the foal and the spike, it mostly…spread her around a bit.
Wendy gasped in horror, as loudly as she dared. “Goosebewwy! Nuuuuu!”
She was quickly shut up by the rest, but the sight had demoralized the herd. The traps were definitely getting worse. Killing their target was one thing, but lately they seemed to be designed to horrify the onlookers more and more. Sage, the next foal on the roster of trap-checkers, began sobbing quietly.
“Otay,” King decided. “Am time fow sweepies an’ nummies.” He looked at the fine mist of blood coating the area. “Jus’ a wittwe mowe.”
Once out of sight of the spike and the blood, they collapsed with relief, although being very careful to not hit the floor too hard. Gooseberry’s fate would make them far more cautious, at least for a while. They began pulling food out of the little carts the larger adults had been pulling behind, but after a warning from King they elected to eat barely enough to quell the rumbling in their bellies. They had to make the food last. They had no idea how long they’d be down here.
Dying quickly to a trap was one thing, but a long, slow death by starvation was another. A few shuddered at the thought. Better to be hungry now than to run out of food later. At least water was always plentiful.
Soon enough, still hungry but more exhausted, they settled into a fluffpile and went to sleep, except for the two unfortunate souls given first watch. It had been hard to sleep here at first, the guttering lights casting scary shadows and the feeling of imminent doom making them twitch at the slightest sound. But eventually, they’d learned to just ignore everything and sleep. If they died, they died, but it was better than dealing with exhaustion.
Come morning, or rather whenever it was King decided was close enough, they realized one of the fluffies on last watch had been taken by something. Lilly’s fluff lay scattered around the ground, with more than a little blood, but the other watch, Bergamot, wouldn’t tell them what had happened. He looked…haunted.
King looked around, realize how disheartened the remnants of his herd had become, and decided it was time to motivate them. “King nyo hewd am scawed, nyo nu wan gu on. Scary pwace nu am nice fow King, eithew. Bu’ King nyo hewd nu am scawdies! Nyo hewd hab wut it takes! Nu mattew wut! Hewd wiww fin’ end! Wiww nu wun 'way!”
It seemed less effective than normal, but he had to admit it wasn’t a very good speech. He himself had a lot of doubts. Maybe it was better to just lay down and die, give up on finding the end of this labyrinth. He shook the thought away. No! They were better than that! They would never give up! No matter what it took!
“Dummeh hewd wet Goosebewwy die!”
“Shut up!” Bergamot screamed back at the voice. He in particular hated the talkie-place-takers. They were awful for the entire herd, of course, but Bergamot’s first…experience…had been with one with the voice of his special-friend.
Unfortunately, that outburst meant every monster in a large radius knew where they were. Quickly and with surprising discipline, but not without a few foul looks and rude remarks aimed at the noisemaker, they gathered up and set out. Running meant no careful movement, no checking for traps, but it also meant not getting torn apart by talkie-place-takers.
Flint, the rearguard and sole living tuffy, gave a sudden yelp as something they’d never seen before dropped from the ceiling and dragged him backwards. In the limited light, he was out of sight in a few seconds. However, not out of hearing range.
Shrieks and visceral sounds made it clear that this new monster was much more sadistic in its kills than the ones they were used to. Everything in this place was getting worse. They were so close, too! The thought of reaching the end drove them on, even as the sound of their last tuffy decorating the tunnel assailed their ears.
They saw a light in the distance, bright sunlight. Sudden hope bloomed in their hearts as they sped up, leaving the slower members of the herd to their fates. They ran into the light, only to realize it wasn’t a nummies-room after all. It was a large, round room with a slick floor.
They barely had time to feel their hearts sink before there was a tinny click! and the floor gave way beneath them, sending them plummeting into darkness.
8 Likes
Who would win? Fluffy herd vs Temple of Elemental Evil!
1 Like
I recently did a study of this and … my money is on the temple
2 Likes