Tiny, bead black eyes glittered with grim determination. The four man team had been assembled from the smallest of the small boys for one purpose. To strike back at the giants who routinely trapped and killed their kin.
Gib’s grip slipped, and Niro lurched sharply to the left, trying to catch hold of his comrade before he fell. Fingers tickled against Niro’s palm, and were gone. Thump, the sound was soft, unimportant. It could have been a pine cone dropping, and not a life cut short. Gib didn’t scream. Even in death he gave his teammates the best chance they would get by not alerting the Browns of the impending attack.
The three continued upward. They knew when they’d accepted the mission that it was suicide. Even at the risk of death, all four had chosen to accept. They had all lost close friends to the Browns, and it was time to show the large boys that they weren’t going just food.
Jalil gritted his teeth and continued the upward climb. They had been chosen for their miniscule size. Under the cloak of night, the Smalls climbed into forbidden territory.
Loud snores drew the tiny boys. Like dark spiders they crept over branches and sleeping boys, hunting for a specific one. Dak bit his tongue hard enough to bleed when one of the boys rolled unexpectedly, pinning him under a heavy arm. Agony ripped through the Little when his legs snapped under the pressure.
Dark eyes locked on Dak, and he gave a sharp nod. Blood dripped between his clenched teeth when Niro approached.
“Go in peace brother.” The words were so faint that only the broken boy heard them. Dak swallowed and tilted his head back, exposing his throat to Niro’s rose thorn knife. Niro’s hand reached out and pressed a hand over his friend’s mouth. The blade plunged down, slashing a fatal line across Dak’s neck. He continued muffling Dak’s final cries until the body stopped convulsing.
Jalil gave Dak an approving nod while motioning him towards one of the woven hammocks. Both tiny boys stared at the sleeping Brown for a long time. The large boy had a scar bisecting his left cheek, one that all the Littles were familiar with. This boy was the trap maker.
The two boys inched forward, each untied a small pouch form their belts as they climbed stealthily onto the big boy’s chest. Slow, careful steps lead them up to the Brown’s face and in unison they dumped the dust just under the large boy’s nose.
Pain shot though Rob’s sleeping mind. He woke with a shout, one hand flailing at his face. Niro cried out when the hand swatted him right off. Blood shot eyes opened at the sound, and with a snarl, Rob grabbed Jalil around the middle and squeezed.
With his dying breath, Jalil cursed the Brown.
Furious pain tore into Rob’s head and maddened his senses. He smashed the Little against the trunk of the tree again and again as wild, unnatural rage pulsed behind his eyes.
The dust of the Klawakii Seeds was known to induce temporary madness. It had taken the Littles seven seasons to gather enough seeds for this one attack.
With a wounded beast roar, Rob threw the broken body to the side and leapt at the boy sleeping nearest him.
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