Cold Blooded by Duron Crejaro (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📕
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- Author: Duron Crejaro
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I finished my stew, and went for seconds before grabbing my bag and stretching out for the night. I drifted off to thoughts of my parents. The last I remember was the notion, let whatever will come, come.
We awakened the next morning, after an uneventful night. The crisp air steamed as it left my mouth, and I breathed in the chill morning air. The sky glowed pale, with the faint light of the rising sun. I dreaded pulling myself from the sleeping bag. I knew from the sharp intake of breath that the morning chill would linger, and I could see that the dull red embers of the fire burned low.
Instead, I relaxed my mind and felt the beast rise. Seconds later I slipped from the covers in my feline form, warmed by the thick fur that covered me. I stretched my form full length in the chill morning, and smelled all the vibrant flavors of life with flair of my nostrils. I turned my head and tweaked my ears, the others continued sleeping. I trotted off on the rough pads of my feet, a silent predator in the wilderness.
Once I moved off from my sleeping companions a bit, I broke into a full run. I dodged roots, leapt over fallen logs, felt the heat of blood as it surged through my body from the exertion. The exhilaration of a predawn run invigorated me, bringing much needed clarity to my emotions. My sides heaved, but my lungs ignored the harsh frosty air. Just the thud of my feet as I sped through the wood. I went in a large circle around our camp, being careful not to wander to far. Once I felt my energy was spent, I slowed and trotted back at my leisure.
I arrived to find the others already awake. The fire had been rebuilt, and Binala sat by it, reheating the remnants of the stew as she added more meat to it. We ate till our bellies could hold no more. I looked at the others and saw the same sense of dread I felt. Who knew if we would eat this well again or when. My gaze drifted westward towards Memphi. Who indeed.
Chapter 7: MemphiMemphi loomed larger before us as we crept closer by the hour. Now the woods that had covered our progress were all but gone. The cracked concrete jungle that reminded me of Nashboro replaced them. Small curls of smoke wafted lazily through the sky before the wind caught them, pushing them away. The sense of dread rode me worse than before, civilization neared us.
Tarin took point, eyes peeled for any sign of danger, while Gloria and I came behind him. Binala took up the rear, and watched our backs, incase someone or something tried to sneak up on us. Though we entered the outskirts of the city, the smoke that signaled actual inhabitance was still further off. The ruined buildings and winding streets on which we traversed hadn’t seen maintenance in a long time.
We pushed onward. Tarin halted and threw up a hand, bringing our procession to a halt. We ducked behind a large dumpster, flecks of green still attached to it, but overall, it had rusted away.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered to Tarin, and nudged him a bit so I could see around the corner.
“I heard something further up the street. It sounded like people yelling.” He said.
“Well we knew we were going to run into people eventually. What’s the problem?” added Binala.
“The shouting didn’t sound friendly. It sounded almost like they were chasing after something.”
I trusted Tarin’s instincts and his superb hearing. Soon, everyone could hear the angry shouts. Bile threatened to rise from my stomach as the anxiety I had been feeling reached a climax. Had we been spotted? Was this a patrol sent to bring us in? Would they try to take us prisoner? To many questions whirled through my mind, none of which I could answer. I peeked around the dumpster, waiting for the mob to show itself. Instead my mind went blank at what appeared.
It moved lightning quick, near as fast as I could in Cheetah form. Its legs came off the side of its body at an odd angle, and the eyes were offset more towards the side of the head. It had a long tail and the entire body was covered in drab olive green scales. It ran past a broken section of brick wall and to my surprise the body burst forth into the deep rust red color of the bricks. I had heard of creatures like this before, Chameleons. This one differed though, its size was nearly that of a human. That’s when I realized, it must be a Wylder. This perplexed me. Chameleons were cold-blooded. Why was it here, why hadn’t it been called by the song like Rees?
I didn’t get but a moment to ponder these things. Another creature followed the first fast on its heels. This creature resembled something else. It was long, slender and covered in fur. At first I thought it was a raccoon, the fur pattern reminded me of the smaller ones I’d seen roaming the wilds back home. As I looked at its elongated slender form I realized that I had my eyes on some kind of creature that I had never before lain my eyes on.
They zipped past us, and I assumed they would keep going. A scent of us in the air must have caught their attention because they slowed as they neared where we were hidden and eyeballed our direction with suspicion. This momentary hesitation allowed the group chasing them to gain ground, and a small group of humans turned the corner.
The grouped numbered around ten, all male. They halted when their prey came in sight and they lined up weapons, and began taking shots at the two creatures. None connected. Whether out of fear of the humans, or the thought that other Wylder would help them, they ducked into the small area we had tucked ourselves away in. The strange feral creature looked at me, its eyes pleading for help. I sighed, knowing I would do what I always did, act without thought.
I stepped from my concealment, and the firing stopped right away. They seemed surprised to see a human girl appear before them. My companions followed suit and stepped out moments later. This startled the small mob even more. They kept their weapons pointed at us, but took no action. I gave a small wave of my hand to the two creatures still behind the dumpster, letting them know to take off while we had the armed men distracted.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.
The apparent leader of the group seemed to come to grips with what was happening and lowered his weapon. The others followed suit. “Who are you? Where did those mutants go?”
“I’m the one asking the questions here, since you were shooting at us.”
“We weren’t shooting at ya’ll, didn’t even know you was there. We’re after those mutants.”
“What mutants?” I asked.
“Don’t play coy. I know you saw those creatures run by. We was shootin at em.”
“Those things that ran by? You mean the Wylder?”
“What the hell is a Wylder. Who are you, and where are you from?” His tone seemed cautious and he raised his weapon in suspicion.
“We’re travelers from the northeast, a place called Nashboro.”
“Never heard of it, what ya’ll doing in these parts?”
“A friend of ours went missing and we heard he went this direction. We are trying to find him. Look, we don’t want know trouble. So we will be on our way.”
“Nah, it’s nearly dark and it isn’t safe to be out after dark with those and other mutants running bout the city. You should come with us, ya’ll look pretty young and I wouldn’t feel right if something would happen to ya’ll after dark.”
I rolled my eyes, though I doubt he could tell from this distance. He had once again lowered his weapon at least. I was a bit perplexed by the whole mutant stance, but what did I know. After all, we weren’t from here, and the culture after the burning was sure to vary to the extreme from place to place. I figured at the very least we should investigate further and not let on that we were Wylder ourselves. Play the part for now at least. I gave my companions knowing looks. I could see the concern and the acceptance in their eyes. They would follow me to the ends of the earth, even if they thought I was plum crazy.
“Alright, we are kinda hungry anyway and we traveled pretty far today. A break doesn’t sound to bad.”
The man grunted his approval and motioned us to follow him.
Chapter 8: DiscoveriesThe group led us through the twisted remains of Memphi. As we ventured deeper into the city, members of the small mob would split off, headed for their various homes. I never imagined that after the burning, people would live in such squalor. I had grown so accustomed to the rebuilding of Nashboro, that the idea of any other way of living seemed implausible. Yet, here I roamed a live example of humans that banded together, but not rebuilt. It begged questions of my curiosity.
Soon, just our small group and the mysterious leader remained. We ended up outside a run down two-story house. The bricks were in disrepair, and the pillars of the porch cracked with paint that hadn’t been replaced in years. I thought maybe with a little work, it could have been beautiful.
The man stopped at the porch and turned to us. “Look I’m sorry I was coarse earlier. Things have been strained around here. I’m Phil. My wife Stella doesn’t know I’m bringing guests. I don’t know how she will react. We don’t get guests often around these parts.”
I looked around to the others with a knowing smile. “Don ‘t worry. We will be on our best behavior. I’m Eliza, and that’s my boyfriend Tarin, and our friends Gloria and Binala.”
He smiled a bit and led
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