Rhinoceros, crisps, runway

Rhino huffed, his nostrils swelling to twice their size.

"There's no need for that, Sir Rhinoceros. I assure you our plan is quite secure." Said Vizier Stork. He touched a wing to his beak, "And I know a thing or two about keeping things secure."

This made Rhino huff no less. "I serve the King; I do not serve the Stork. You'll have to convince him of this folly. Until then, I wash my horn of this matter." He turned slowly around, and stomped out of the secret meeting underneath the shade of the Wide Tree.

Meerkat snacked loudly on a bag of spider crisps. "Well, I suppose that's that, then."

Stork tried to calm Meerkat and the others at the meeting. "Of course not. I'm sure Sir Rhino will come around in time."

"I think you'd have an easier time convincing King Lion than that old brute. If you ask me, we don't need either of them."

Baboon quietly raised a finger, "We have brains, but no strength with which to back it up. Who will take and protect this new kingdom, I ask? An army of your kin, Meerkat? Or perhaps you'll convince the Elephants to pay mind to someone other than than Elephantkind? Or maybe you mean to turn the Hippo into a warrior?"At that, everyone laughed at their expense. Hippo turned an even darker shade of red, while Meerkat slowly steamed.

When the laughter had died down, Meerkat began slowly, "You underestimate me, good Baboon. My allies are greater in number and in kind than you might think." He snapped another spider crisp into his mouth. "Spymaster!"

In an instant, Leopard dropped down from his unseen perch atop the Wide Tree. The animals drew away in fear, giving him a wide berth.

Meerkat smiled, enjoying the baboon's skittering especially. "Tell us what you have seen, Leopard."

Leopard described the camp his cold, emotionless eyes had seen. "A few tents, some artillery, and a runway. There aren't many in number now, but they mean to stay. And they will only grow."

Baboon regained his composure, and scoffed. "and do you mean to have an army of spies to go against the Human scourge? You cannot hope to do this without consent of the King."

It was Stork's turn to chime in. "You leave that to me. Cheetah!"

The slender, tiny-boned cat slinked from his bed beneath the tree. "If you please, could you summon our friends the Hyenas? I believe they have a favor owed to us."

Cheetah nodded, and took off in pursuit of their new dark allies.

Baboon shook his head. "I too, can take no part in this."

Meerkat spat onto the ground. "Why can none of you see what is happening here? I have seen the man-cities that stand in place of the jungles of my cousin mongoose. Do you think they mean anything different here? They push out all others and destroy the land wherever they go. There is no one that is safe, no not one. If the King and his loyals want to sit by and be slaughtered, then they need only wait and do nothing. But for me, I will not stand by and wait to die. I will strike, now, while I still can. You can tell that to your king." He threw down the bag and climbed on top of the Stork. "Let us leave these short-sighted simpletons."

"As you wish, Lord Meerkat."

Cheese, Prejudice, Tartan

"There is only one way that this ends." bellowed a burly man on the other side of the field. He was large and angry, but clearly not a soldier. He appeared to be their leader, but perhaps that was only because he was the largest and the angriest. 


'Army' seemed a rather generous description of the band of men and women in front of MacLeod. A half-dozen pitchforks raised in the air, and half as many tartans. This wasn't an army, this was every able-bodied human being in the entire village. Standing together to defend their homes, their cows, and their cheese. How adorable.


MacLeod thought sweet words would most likely be wasted on such a group of hard-line believers. "I disagree, General Cheesebeard. There are precisely two ways that this ends. I'm afraid neither are what you would prefer."


His jabs only made the large man grow larger and redder. "This ends with your head on a spike, as a sign to anyone else who would demand tribute. No king has ever come to Owenfield. We do not bow."


MacLeod smiled. "Well that rules out the easiest option, then. Very well, I shall see you tomorrow." He stirred his horse, turned around and began to trot off towards the forest. 


He could feel the confusion and perhaps even disappointment on the voice of the burly man. "Where do you think you're going?"


Continuing his trot, MacLeod called back "Well I can't very well kill you all by myself, can I?"


That was all the fat man needed. "Oh no you don't." Then, to the crowd behind him, "As one, we charge!" 


They cried in unison, "As one!" and MacLeod heard a rush of feet behind him.


He kept his horse's pace. The peasants were a long way off, and the forest was at least half that distance. 


He pulled an apple out of his saddlebag, and bit down into the sweet-tartness.


He swung his horse around, and found the large leader with his eyes. MacLeod must have been projecting calmness even better than he thought he was, because the leader's eyes were filled with fear. That was all MacLeod was waiting for. 


He pulled a whistle out of his jerkin pocket, and blew a long, loud note into the forest.


The peasants stopped dead in their tracks. But it wouldn't have mattered.

As one, the regal raiding party rode out of the forest, and felled their swords to the peasants necks. It was over almost as soon as it began.


MacLeod rode past the field of bodies, up to the large leader who's prejudice had dared defied him. He was still breathing, and his eyes were as open as the gash on his torso, both of which seemed fixed on MacLeod. 


MacLeod met the man's gaze. "I told you there was another way. While it was my men who killed them, their blood is on your hands just the same." 


The man did not have the strength to answer, but he did have the strength to spit. MacLeod cleaned the spittle and blood off of his shoe.


MacLeod kept his gaze for a moment, then called over to one of his lieutenants. "Sir Duffield, do we have any spikes handy?"

Tank, Plaster, Work

There was a time when I didn't need to do this. A time when sky-tanks never hummered through the skyline. A time when we were free.

Some say it's no good to think of that time, but for me it's the only thing that keeps me going. I'm older than most, almost 30 now. I remember the time before they came. Most of these kids, they've never known anything other than obedience and sleeping on racks.

It's amazing how quickly the American spirit was crushed.

I knock quickly on the metal grate, and wait for a response. I'm at an unmarked brick-and-plaster building on an unmarked street, in what's becoming an increasingly unmarked city. There's no response after a minute, so I knock again, randomizing the pattern of knocks, something the Skitters have trouble doing.

I hear another random knock back.

I tap the first few bars of the Star Spangled banner on the grate, and it opens. A fifteen year-old-face covered with dirt greets me. "Where have you been?"

"And a good morning to you too, Trevor" I say, stepping past him into the building.

He runs and blocks the inner door to the rest of the compound. "It's been three days. You know I can't let you in until you've been verified."

I sigh. We have no way of telling the Skitters from us, not really. But these teenage savages have a nigh-religious trust in their blood rituals. No matter that I've seen a man-skin shed blood as a Skitter burst through the thin mask of his body, they need to see red. I think it gives a sense of security, something that makes it feel like they're in control of the situation.

But as much as it's complete bullshit, my stomach is growling and there's no way the Skitters are feeling as generous as the Lord of the Flies is this evening. As if the nosepicker has ever read that book, or any book for that matter.

I slide my pocketknife out from its sheath, and place it on my palm. The kid watches with dead eyes. He is not a fifteen year old, but he is not a man. He is something else entirely: a soldier.

"Satisfied?"

He nods, and opens the door into the marketplace.

As I walk through, he says, "But where have you been?"

"Working." I say, and continue on to sell my wares.