Reconciliation and wrangling trees

That heinous screeching vibrates throughout my core – ringing like a pointed finger -- like an accusation that punches down into the briny depths. Ebon soldiers wince, even from their rearward post they couldn’t hide from the horror which surpassed natural octaves. Numb, frothy jaws release the sour branch; it plops unceremoniously to the mud. Lifeless…dead (as it should be,) torn savagely from the trunk of our latest devil. I look up…wide, damp sockets absorbing the sight of death. There should've been some fragment of satisfaction; of cool water being poured over the flaming hearth, soothing the fury which raged within. But there wasn’t any relief. No sensation of victory or triumph…only shock and anger…shock of the animation in said demon...and resentment for our current situation. Then…those unexplored emotions are blotted out... There was only pain. Self preservation kicks in --ash colored brims twist aggressively inwardly, desperately yawning as they groan. Ivories jerk open, spittle is flung as they frantically reach. That inflicted location quivers violently, sobbing great tears of agony. Rain drenched eyelids pinch defiantly as these jaws lunge and feet stomp into the sludge…again...and again. Each time they miss their mark; the burrowed pest lay just beyond reach. Just beyond the insanity that was willing to rip off the skin and meat it had turned like top-soil.  A furious, aggravated squeal ignites, soaring toward liberty! The tart, bitter flavor of brine mingles with mud - railroading the fur with highways of grime. I twist and that bruised shoulder rotates obediently – despite the intense flash of sharp, determined pain to inform me otherwise. The arm slides without complaint of interior structure; the skeleton and muscles were intact. Not broken. “Something, dug in,” that hard voice is ragged, pained, hardly recognizable to these ears, “can you get it!?” Fibers bellow their disdain – they weren’t keen to undergo emergency surgery -- but…if the infestation carried poison, a scar would be least of our concern.

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