“Laughable,” Cang says, turning his back on the grey things.
“Sure,” their leader rasps. “Laugh, laugh.” Its compatriots certainly do: a juddering, chirping laughter rises from their ranks. Yet more from the trees above.
Fassn, beside himself as the neurotoxin flows through him, can’t help but chuckle along.
“What favour?” Abia asks.
“Why should we perform labours for free?” Cang says.
“Not free. Antidote.”
“Our priestess,” rasps the creature. “Has been taken by humans.”
“We know nothing of her, our most sincere apologies. We must be on our way,” Cang says.
“Antidote,” Shyan chokes, spittle flying from her lips.
Cang rolls his eyes. “Captured by whom?”
Logan Bright — Works 