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Conflict Before War

Chapter 3
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The large, shell-winged Primal sighed as they plodded towards the tunnel mouth. A pale, maned member of the camp came into view, standing at the very mouth of the entrance. Rarka bowed at the guard, dropping a hunted crocodilian to show their trip's success. Arkach - the guard - nodded over their shoulder, waving the smaller primal in.

"Anyone still in there?" Rarka sat down before the carcass, unready to enter before a back-and-forth.

"Rachekare is also on guard, Buru is inside, keeps reporting back to us," Arkach tilted their head to one side, thinking. "Kaye came back earlier with a failed expedition into the Steps. Buru keeps hearing distant children, but they hide when approached. Lure is-"

"I know about Lure," Rarka said, and began dragging the reptile in.

The trip in continued in stiff silence, punctuated by the sound of hot meat pulling on the dirt. Arkach made to help the other Primal carry their goods, but Rarka shrugged them off in one quick motion, pulling ahead in the tunnel and continuing on. As they passed Rachekare, the other guard simply smirked at Arkach, not rising from their lounging position against the wall.

"What was that about?" Rachekare scoffed as Arkach caught up, the two taking up most of the room in the tunnel side by side.

Arkach weighed whether they would rather hear Rachekare's opinion on Lure or on their own dodging the subject.

"We should just go," Arkach decided.

"What makes you think that?" The other guard drawled, getting to their feet finally, face a bit too close to Arkach's.

"Just tell the others left in camp they should go somewhere in the mountain, get out ourselves, there's nothing to save here. We ran out of food anyway-"

"That's what I thought," Rachekare spread their wings wide, standing head-on in front of Arkach. Maybe if the light wasn't directly behind them, Arkach wouldn't notice the tendrils of pale flesh starting to rope around their shoulders. "Listen, turtle, I don't know what kind of hide-in-your-ass strategy got you appointed, but where I stand, you stick with your camp if it kills you. Walk out if you want, not like everyone else hasn't been doing that. Hell, the chief did it. Take the damn camp. I'll stay here and wait for the thing that's putting us all and all those little children in the Steps at each others' throats."

Rachekare's entire body was in shadow, and their face streamed with smog from every exit, thick and heavy. Arkach reached to the side slowly, picking up a warscythe and tensing themself.

"Besides, what, a monster that's stronger if people hate each other?" Rachekare's mouth filled with another beast's skin. "You know when that started. It's because of that mutant."

Arkach lunged above the other guard, the warping flesh and smog immediately binding around their body. Massive jaws formed out of the smoke, closing around the shelled Primal's entire body, crunching down hard. Rachekare - still full of hate and fight and vitriol, but devoid now of alien flesh - scrambled across the tunnel, picking up another scythe. They filled the tunnel with their wings and turned to face...

Shouldn't have come here.

Well, they didn't know what they expected. A head the size of their entire body stared back, squeezed into the tunnel, edges splattered vaguely against the walls. The thing wheezed and snarled raggedly, but with no semblance of weakness.

Rachekare charged.

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