Dream - 15 (Patreon)

Samazzar scuttled forward, doing his best to avoid thinking about his empty stomach.  He’d finished the last of his rat jerky yesterday, and already his still growing body was screaming for more protein.

Hungrily he glanced at the milklight mushrooms as he passed through the grove.  Their gills fluttered in the windless night of the cavern, beckoning to him as Sam salivated quietly.

There would be time for that later.  For the moment, his attention was on the lake.  Unfortunately, the volcanic spring rendered his heat vision absolutely useless.  The otter could be hiding just under the surface waiting for him to approach.

Of course, Sam grinned to himself, it could also be lazing around the hot spring at the bottom of the lake.  There really wasn’t any way for him to tell until he was close enough to monitor the bad air leaving its body.

Sam focused on the mystery of good air, bringing the wisps of white and blue gas into his vision.  Deep in the lake, the accordion sponges practically glowed white, bubbles of various gases from the vents trickling toward the surface around them.

His vision focused on the twin cylinders of good air rising from the bottom of the lake toward him.  A handful of bubbles of bad air erupted from just in front of them, weaving together as they made their way toward the surface.

He grinned.  It seemed that the otter had noticed his approach.  Stopping some fifteen to twenty paces from the edge of the water, Sam very deliberately removed his knife from its sheath.

The blade sank into a milklight’s gills.  He retracted his claw and swiftly repeated the motion slightly to the left as he began making an incision wide enough for him to dig a claw in and scoop out the nutrigious fungus.

In the water, the good air accelerated as the otter abandoned its leisurely pace and rocketed toward Samazzar.  Quickly, he shoved his knife back in its sheath before pushing both hands into the hole in the milklight gill and ripping out a massive expanse of the soft and edible portion of the mushroom.

The otter burst from the water, purple fur glowing slightly from years of milklight consumption.  It landed on the bank of the pond, bellowing angrily at Sam for disturbing its placid grove.

He looked up into its enraged eyes as the creature towered over him, and calmly shoved a clawful of gill into his mouth.

It blinked at him, trying to process the concept of prey acting this insolently while Sam cheerfully and unhurriedly ate a second clawful.

His heart hammered in his tiny chest, and it took everything in Samazzar’s body to refrain from bolting.  Staring down the otter was more terrifying than standing tall in the midst of an entire storm crow flock, but it was what the plan called for.

The otter lunged forward, its broad shoulders shattering the almost wooden milklight stalks with depressing ease as it snapped its jaws where Sam had stood only a moment before.

The ground rushed past him, a grey and uneven blur as Samazzar put both sets of claws to work, scampering like a frightened rat away from the rampaging mammal.  He didn’t bother to turn around as it pushed through the grove, not even trying to avoid the milklights as the huge mushrooms barely slowed it.

Seconds later, he was outside the fungal forest, pulse racing as he switched to heat vision and locked his eyes on the tunnel he’d used to find the cavern.  In the weeks since his first encounter with the otter he’d widened its mouth to the point that the creature would be able to follow him inside.

It would be a tight fit, and if the otter stopped to think it would probably notice the discrepancy, but that was why the plan called for blinding the monster with rage before luring it toward the passageway.

The otter bellowed behind him, sending a wave of moist hot air that smelled of rotting fish over Sam’s scampering form.  He winced, but didn’t miss a step as he took note of the creature’s thundering steps just behind him.  Maybe the plan was working too well.

Then he was in the comforting confines of the tunnel.  For a brief second, Samazzar held his breath, but the heatsource of the otter chased him blindly, the dim purple light of its fur illuminating the stone expanse.

Ten steps later, the passageway narrowed further, and Sam slammed a claw into the bottom of a heavy milklight stalk.  The fungal log pivoted, yanking downward on the carefully braided sinew rope he had painstakingly connected to the ceiling.

The keystone fell out, clattering to the ground just in front of the rampaging otter, and for a single horrifying second, nothing happened.  Then, a rain of boulders fell onto the monster as the cliff face surrounding the tunnel mouth collapsed on the creature.

Sam didn’t even take a moment to congratulate himself, instead drawing his knife and darting into the tiny side passage he’d carved into the cave wall with nothing more than his own two claws and some basic alchemical oils and powders.  Frantically he crawled toward the space he’d used to weaken the cavern wall and tunnel ceiling, gritting his teeth for a brief moment before dropping down.

The otter was heavily injured, but far from dead.  The rocks covering it were heavy and jagged, but Samazzar hadn’t been able to figure out a way to let them fall far enough to accumulate truly killing speed.  Instead, they bruised and pinned the thrashing mammal, leaving it to the tiny kobold to finish the job.

His claws skittered across stone for a second before finding purchase.  Sam clambered over a boulder, pausing briefly as it shook from his prey trying to free itself, only to continue his descent a moment later.

Heat vision revealed a crevice in the pile of rocks, and Sam brushed some dust and gravel aside to reveal luxuriously soft purple fur.  A feral grin lit up his face as the stiletto began darting in and out of the otter.

It bellowed in rage, struggling to pull itself from the pile of debris.  Sam thrust his claw into the wound, ignoring the hot blood oozing from the monster as he pushed past its fur and took a firm grasp on the flesh beneath.  It shrieked again, but he barely even noticed, instead pushing his knife blade deeper, severing muscle tissue and practically tunneling his way toward the organs beneath.

The otter struggled beneath him again, shifting rocks to the side and sending blood pumping through the gaping wound he’d torn in its back.  Samazzar sputtered for a second, struggling not to choke on the steaming gore pouring as the scalding liquid overwhelmed his heat vision.

As gross as the purple otter’s blood was, Sam’s primary concern were the toxins coursing through the thick sludge.  The creature was far from the biggest predator in the deep tunnels, but it was largely safe from the horrors that prowled the unending dark mostly due to its diet of milklight.  Even if larger monsters could slay it without too much trouble, the diet of glowing mushrooms left their flesh and blood toxic beyond belief, inedible to all but the most robust of constitutions.

He wobbled, claws slipping off the monster’s slick ribs and spine as it finally extricated itself from the cave in.  Sam grinned as fiercely as his small face could manage, claws ripping deeply into the otter’s flesh as it stumbled away from the cave wall.  Muscle gave way under his incessant slashing and digging, revealing the spongy surface of the monster’s lungs.

The creature reared back drunkenly, trying to buck itself free from the tenacious kobold.  Instead, it slipped in a puddle of its own blood, landing on its side with a deep thud that echoed throughout the cavern.

Samazzar didn even slow, stabbing his stiletto deep into the otter’s lung, following up a moment later with another strike from his claw to widen the wound.  Good air whistled and rushed out of the puncture wound, dousing Sam in it’s dank and fetid odor.

The otter rolled onto its back, trying its hardest to crush him under its bulk.  Sam took a deep breath, diving further into its lungs just as the blood slick fur around him slammed into the rock floor.

The impact almost knocked the breath out of Samazzar, a rib thumping into his side hard enough to bruise him through his scales.  In exchange, his dagger and claws slashed and cut wildly in the dark confines of the otter’s body.

More and more blood poured from the creature’s minced and shredded flesh.  It squawked in distress, the sound thrummed through Sam, injured lungs flapping around him as his entire body vibrated.  It staggered to its feet, croaking in alarm once again.

Sam paused his assault, face scrunching up into a frown.  There was something in the otter’s wet rattling breath, some esoteric understanding just beyond his reach.

It stumbled, half dragging itself in the direction of the grove and the lake.  He took a quick breath as good air flowed over his scales, smelling of fish and the hot iron of the otter’s blood.    There it was again.

He tuned out the monster’s lumbering gait, instead focusing on the sensation of the fouled and damp air as it slid past him.  Sam stretched his senses, taking in the mix of good air that swirled through the monster’s throat and lungs only to escape through the sucking wound he’d left in on his way in.

The gas pulsed as the otter croaked weakly, the sound itself pushing and warping the air.  Samazzar closed his eyes entirely, trying his hardest to understand.  The gentle flow of air whispered to him, promising secrets hidden just beyond his understanding.

Then, water replaced air, warm and welcome as the creature dove into the lake.  Sam grabbed his stiletto with both hands, jamming it through the thin wall of meat separating him from the otter’s one good lung.  The water slowed his strike, but the sharp needle of the millipede leg drove through the otter’s flesh with relative ease.

He ripped the knife free.  A jet of bubbles erupted around Sam as the good air tried to escape the creature’s other lung.  The tingling sensation in the back of his mind returned, like he was at the cusp of realizing something important, something monumental.

A claw worried at the wound, widening it and increasing the speed and size of the bubbles forming in the water as the otter thrashed in panic around him.  Sam squinted through the warm water filling the cramped cavity of the monster’s lung.

Across from him, its working lung began to deflate, shrinking as it emptied its payload.  The otter attempted to reverse course, frantically swimming toward the surface as its body began to warn its tiny brain that it was running out of good air.

A good plan that didn’t take into account that its flagging muscles had enough.  Blood loss and bruising from the cave-in combined to weaken the animal, but the final blow came in the form of its collapsed lungs.

Its paws clawed ineffectually through the water, unable to do much more than slow the otter’s descent.  Realization slammed into Sam with the force of the collapse he’d triggered to trap the otter.

Pressure.

Suddenly he could ‘see’ the lightness of the otter’s lungs, the ‘heaviness’ of the rest of its body, and the constant crushing grip of the water around them.  The water pushed at the otter’s struggling form from all directions, but with only half a lung, its body was simply too heavy.

It sank.  The otter’s squirming weakened as the strength steadily left its body, unable to fight the inevitable even as the water around them pressed harder on its furry form.

Sam knew the second it died.  The muscles surrounding both lungs went slack, letting the last of the good air leak out into the lake.  He wormed his way around, barely able to pull himself out of the gash in the otter’s back.

As soon as his head poked out of the wound, the water wrapped him in its scalding embrace.  It squeezed, all but forcing the last dregs of good air from his tiny lungs.  Pain stabbed into his ears as the water pressed against the sensitive membranes.

Everything in his body screamed for Sam to swim for the surface, but a quick calculation of the distance sent his heart racing.  He didn’t have enough good air to make it.

He kicked his feet, trying to ignore the increasing pain in his ears as he swam lower.  The pressure grew more and more unbearable, to the point that if his eyes were open they would be streaming tears.

The borderline boiling water from the hot springs bubbled around his scales.    The intense heat warred with the crushing pressure for Samazzar’s attention.  It took everything inside him to ignore the pain, as he continued swimming toward the three bulges of good air surrounding the vent itself.

Sam’s claws closed on the accordion sponge, ripe and heavy with good air.  He shoved a talon through the side of the plant, drawing another jet of bubbles.  Without hesitation, Samazzar pressed his thin lips to the side of the sponge, inhaling deeply to fill his aching lungs.

Distantly, instinctive understanding appeared in his mind.  Somehow, he knew that he had reached the second level of good air.  He could deal with that later.  For now, Sam planted his claws on either side of the mostly empty accordion sponge and ripped it from the floor of the lake.

Once it was free, he tucked it under one skinny arm and swam hastily over to the next sponge, pulling the balloon full of good air from the lake floor.  This time he wrapped both arms around it and kicked off the ground.

Something popped in his ears, and the gentle burble of bubbles rising from the vent was replaced with a high pitched ringing.  Sam bit his lip and kept paddling upward, letting the air filled sack provide most of the lift.

Just as he was considering popping the second sponge, Sam’s head broke the surface of the water.  For a second he just sat there, clutching his two prizes tightly as he took in the gentle blue glow of the milklight grove that was all his.

Then, a massive smile on his face despite the ringing in his ears, Samazzar began kicking his way toward shore.  He might have killed the otter, learned a new mystery, and achieved another level in good air, but he still needed to collect food, prepare a salve for his ears, and try to find a source for fire spores.

There was still a long way to go before he was a dragon.