Draa leaned into the rotting blister, bulging it under his weight. His thick finger squelched through the disgusting membrane, and his red eye, its pupil green, stared greedily at the breach in the wall. Beyond it, the setting sun painted the desert orange.
Greedy, unsuspecting life swarmed toward the stinking mound. Waves of crawling, long-legged, and flying insects teemed through the refuse, feasting. A thin beam of light stretched along the tunnel leading into the depths of the Nest, playfully reflecting rainbow glimmers off the congealing liquid.
Hunger stabbed at Draa’s belly, begging him to hunt. He suppressed the urge without losing focus and licked his lips at a familiar clicking sound. From the passage, six large chitinous humps, each reaching his knee, squeezed through in a row. Without hesitation, they fell upon the trapped insects in a carnivorous whirlwind of slashing limbs. The drones mowed down the parasites by the hundreds, fanning out across the twitching carpet that oozed whitish liquid.
Behind them, accompanied by a pair of drones, a pulsating purple mass of a feeder seeped inside, absorbing the ground-up nutrients.
Every day, the Malformed of the Nest dumped all their refuse and waste into the tunnels at ground level, creating a rotting mound right at the unprotected entrance. Any Softskin spy attempting to enter this way was doomed to a painful death from intestinal acid and radiation fumes, thereby sparing the lazy guards the need to constantly watch the passage.
The stench drifting outward attracted insects, which carried away tasty morsels and naturally processed the garbage. On these insects, in turn, the Insectoids raided. Now, the survivors scattered, cramming into cracks in the rusted walls or streaming up dangling chains to the metal beams that served as bridges between the narrow tunnels.
But there were also those who welcomed the plague of the desert.
With a wet slap, Draa burst from his hiding place. The hunting urge pulsed in his muscles, spurring his movements. His fist, green with slime, slammed down on the nearest drone’s scruff. The creature’s neck crunched like a rusty pipe. Its body twitched, its legs scraping convulsively at the floor, before it collapsed in a limp heap. The first… but not the last.
Draa stared at the feeder. Fight or flight? The mass changed direction, heading toward the desert. Success, no danger!
Alarmed by the unexpected resistance, a drone lunged, two sharp forelimbs shooting toward his neck. Draa didn’t dodge; he threw himself at the creature. The full weight of his large body, covered in heavy bony growths, amplified the swift thrust of his elbow as it drove into the center of the Insectoid’s back. The pierced carapace crumpled inward, impaling the creature clean through. The floor beneath them gave a plaintive squeal and buckled under their combined weight.
With a crash, flipping onto his belly, the Malformed raced on all fours toward his next victim, grabbing at the ground with his hands and filling the chamber with the crack of joints. The tapping of needle-like legs behind him announced the ascent of another drone. The creature had no intention of hiding. It leaped from the wall onto Draa’s back, undoubtedly aiming for the gap between the growths on his neck where his tarry skin was visible.
Clever! He didn’t believe these creatures were intelligent, trusting Pa, who claimed drones followed only a set of advanced instincts. One of them had noticed Draa’s vulnerability and signaled it, releasing a scent mark or something similar. Even if they didn’t know the boy lacked the flexibility to raise his arms or reach his back, such an attack could have cost him his life.
But social predators were always more dangerous than a pathetic swarm. An elongated brown pincer clicked over Draa, dousing him in ichor.
“Watch your back!” a piercing voice shouted.
“Why, when I’ve got a buddy for that?” Draa laughed, rough and raspy.
Reaching the drone, he grabbed it by the head and hind legs and joyfully clamped his jaws around its quivering underbelly. Ah, food of the gods! Pieces of carapace, shattered legs, and soft tissues ground to a pulp by his square teeth flowed down his throat, eliciting a satisfied rumble.
Flesh. Blood. Food!
Forcing his trembling hands to toss the dead body aside, Draa heard a squeak from above, followed by the soft crunch of crushed insects and the scrape of a tunnel grate near the rotting refuse mound. Rivals? No matter. He stood up.
Above the drone that had intended to attack Draa and now lay sliced in two, a second boy pranced on six needle-like legs. Behind his long, tapered body, sheathed in overlapping brown chitinous plates, a curved tail rose. The tip of the hanging arc stopped above his human neck and head, and Eshtu narrowed his dull red eyes at the movement darting toward him. Two stingers adorned the tail: one short, underdeveloped, sticking out to the side, and the second, proud and sharp.
Eshtu hated any physical contact with anyone but his sister. His pincers, which served as his arms, shot up to shield his vulnerable face, while simultaneously his six legs swayed, dodging the pressing drone. The stinger pricked the Insectoid, punching a narrow hole.
The drone landed, extended a leg to step, and sprawled out, losing its support. It convulsed, white foam bubbling between its mandibles. Before Draa could approach, Eshtu caught the next one and repeated the trick.
Draa tapped his knuckles against his friend’s carapace, distracting him from sucking out the victim through the puncture he’d made, and nodded at the two remaining drones. They ignored the feeder, having learned from bitter experience that any contact with that pulsating mass was like plunging a limb into potent acid.
The creature brought pain. Moreover, a loss of the feeder risked attracting the attention of Insectoid warriors. No one wanted that kind of trouble. The hunt should bring profit, not the devastation of feeding grounds.
Draa’s fist smashed through a drone’s head, penetrating it to the wrist. Beside him, Eshtu trampled the last one.
“Yes!” Draa shouted, flipping the middle finger at the retreating acid as it licked up the torn insects along the escape route. “Run, crawler! Who are the top predators?!”
“We are!” Eshtu rose onto his hind legs, standing tall. His pincer swung dangerously close to Draa’s fist, close enough to create a slight breeze but avoiding contact. “Insatiable devourers of predators, scourge of rivals, and lords of the desert!”
“No one can stop us…”
“And if someone tries…”
“We’ll tear them apart and gnaw their bones!” Both boys laughed and broke into a circling dance.
Draa wanted to grab Eshtu by the pincers and spin him around in sheer joy, but that would have offended him. After their shared celebration, they parted, gathering the dead drones. Draa didn’t even look at the stung ones. He wasn’t afraid of Eshtu’s paralytic venom—among the kids, it was considered a treat, giving the Malformed a pleasant, relaxing high—but the liquefied insides became disgustingly bland.
Who in their right mind liked mush?!
Surveying his haul brought a wide grin to Draa’s face. Four fat, fresh drones! He’d expected one, maybe two at most. Oh, this would be enough not only to show off to Mom and bring home meat for a hearty dinner but also to trade for treats for his little sister!
The scrape of the grate interrupted his pleasant thoughts. Draa squared his shoulders, puffed out his barrel chest, and stopped before the pile of refuse, surprising Eshtu.
“Hey! If you weren’t confident enough to take on this crowd, why do you think you’re our equals? Don’t hide, come out. I’ll share the food,” Draa promised.
“I won’t,” Eshtu grumbled, using his legs to stretch the membranous pouch on his underbelly as he stuffed his half of the drones inside. “My sister’s hungry.”
“We have plenty of juicy insects here.” Draa scooped up the crushed parasites from the floor, slowly letting them trickle between his fingers. “Delicious! Help yourselves. And you up there, come down to us. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he called into the darkness above.
One chain swayed, barely noticeable; he thought he glimpsed a hunched figure near an ancient ventilation duct. But it was too dark to be sure. The rustling near the grate grew louder.
“There’s no one there,” said an unknown boy, still hiding behind the refuse.
“Idiot! He’s luring us out! There’s no way he knew we were here…” a familiar girl’s voice hissed.
“Watch out!” shouted the owner of the hissing voice, and someone meowed from above at the same time.
A shadow flashed past Draa, and Eshtu let out a long shriek, toppling sideways from a swift shove. Eight curved, claw-tipped legs closed around the Malformed, trapping him in a shaggy cage. The upper part was an oval body with a smaller round protrusion at the front—a head. The mass pressed the tail against the captive’s spine, neutralizing him. Alien clusters of faceted eyes stared over the panicking boy as impressive mandibles opened, ready to snap his neck along with his stinger.
An arachnid! Pa had told him about such creatures, which lived alone and found partners only for mating. Their hairy legs allowed them to climb any height, but unlike spiders, they didn’t weave webs for a sedentary life; instead, they traveled the desert, devouring anyone they met.
But why was it here? It wasn’t night yet?
Pure rage drove all other thoughts from Draa’s skull. His friend was in danger; he needed to act, kill, maim!
“Pick on someone your own size, midge!” He slammed his fist into the arachnid’s side with all his might.
A dull thud echoed off the walls. The creature showed no sign of irritation; his bony fist couldn’t even stretch its elastic hide, but the blow pushed the looming death to the right, and the mandibles snapped shut uselessly next to Eshtu’s ear.
“My sister! Draa, take care of…”
“Take care of her yourself! I’m busy as it is!” Draa’s words came out in wheezing growls.
He pounded the dust-brown sphere without letting up, letting bestial rage guide his actions. The arachnid paid him no mind whatsoever, trying to bite off its prisoner’s head; such disregard only enraged Draa further. Yellow veins bulged in his eyes; his hands methodically hammered into the impenetrable surface like the still-working centuries-old pistons his father had once shown him deep in the Nest.
The arachnid and its victim toppled sideways.
A direct approach wasn’t working. Joints! Animal instinct drove Draa toward a bent leg. He brought his clasped fists down on the hairy curve, and both the arachnid and Eshtu thrashed almost in unison as the attacker’s limb cracked.
Excellent. We’re making progress. You’re not invincible, creature! Draa shoved his hand between the arachnid’s belly and his friend, creating space for the limping Eshtu to scramble out of the living trap. Pale fluid beaded on the monster’s damaged leg. Unable to resist, Draa opened his mouth and caught a few drops on his tongue.
They tasted like triumph.
Recklessness cost him his balance. The arachnid whipped a leg across his knees, sweeping him down, and dragged him into its shadow. Seven limbs smoothly slid behind its back, pulling the struggling Malformed toward its waiting jaws. Bring it on, I’m not afraid! With a fierce roar, he swung, aiming to drive his hand straight into the creature’s brain through its open maw.
His fist ricocheted off its closed mandibles, sending an unpleasant spasm through his shoulder. This hunter was nothing like the stupid drones. Desperate, Draa kept flailing uselessly at the gyrating sphere, his every blow sliding off.
Mom… won’t like this. Even now, he trusted in the strength of his bony growths, challenging the predator that had invaded his territory. He was no helpless victim. He had faced true terror before. This? Nothing, a pathetic imitation. He’d still pull out this insolent creature’s guts and drink its delicious juices to his heart’s content.
A green stream sprayed over the eyes above Draa, and he winced as burning stomach acid dripped onto his neck. A shudder ran through the arachnid’s round body. The thing turned its head, where a boiling blotch had blinded a third of its black puddle-eyes. The creature felt that. Steam rose above another stream landing on the monster’s back, and it jerked.