Gibble

"Comrades! We have put up with this cowardly pilfering scavenger, Gibble, for far too long. Don't you think?"

The rest of the mob nod in agreement; Lobert steps forward.

"Every verwain I kill, he has filched a part of; my last he stole entirely before I could retrieve it. I ask you, what makes his hunger greater than our need?"

Angry voices speak over one another; their leader Pertwee raises his arms, silencing them immediately.

"This is what I was talking about. We've never lost a whole kill before he came along. We've already tried exiling him, although that seems to have just made him worse."

Jequith, the elder, turns his head.

"What do you plan on doing, Pertwee? You speak as though you are thinking of killing him. He was one of us, remember? It is Frûlkè law, that we must not harm our own kind, lest the gods smite us."

"I know our laws, old one. The exiled are not one of us though, are they?"

Jequith points his cane at Pertwee.

"We'll have no part of this."

"And what will you do to stop us?"

Jequith puts his cane down, turns, and sighs.

"Why should I try to stop you? You'll do what you do. Remember though, that I warned you."

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"Will the gods really smite us, Lobert?"

Lobert puts down his Arrafet and looks toward his younger brother.

"Do not worry, Urtak. The gods understand our plight; besides, Pertwee is right. Gibble is no longer one of us."

"It is still considered murder, isn't it?"

Pertwee saunters into the lightly cavarted illau.

"No, young, Urtak. 'Tis a scavenger hunt!"

The three laugh.

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Gibble sits on the edge of the Qad-Raj; his legs dangle precariously within the thick brackish fluid as kzefdis nibble the death off his nelks.

Urtak spots him first, and whispers, "there he is."

Lobert aims his Arrafet carefully; Urtak does the same, though shakes slightly in uneasy trepidation.

A rogue verwain scuttles under the ground near Gibble, drawing his complete attention.

"You're a fast one, aren't you?"

Lobert fires first.

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Pertwee stares out at an alien landscape.

Green below him, blue high above; amid the blue is a large orb of bright light.

Where is he?

Two pink fleshy beings stand beside him.

He looks down; he too is one of these pink fleshy beings

Five nubbly nelks on his upper appendages and five on his lower; another lone nelk dangles between his lower appendages, as it did on the other pink critters.

"What happened?"

Urtak's voice projects from the mouth of one of the others.

"Lobert? Urtak? Is that you?"

One of the others turns to Pertwee.

"You were wrong, Pertwee. The gods have punished us. His exile did not exclude him from our species, we were not above the laws of the gods."

"I know. We made a mistake. I am sorry."

"Oh you're sorry, are you? What even are we? Are we alive? Is this skedbo? I feel the warmth on my new skin, just like hededad predicted."

In the distance, more pink fleshy things approach.

"We both agreed to follow him, didn't we, Lobert? Jequith warned us, though we still didn't listen. This isn't Pertwee's fault alone. We could've left at any time, but we didn't."

The pink things come closer.

"Thank you Urtak, although your brother's right. I shouldn't have called for Gibble's death. Oh look, more like us."

Urtak takes an awkward step.

"Aerti-maq! Aerti-maq!"

Lobert puts a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I don't think they are coming to greet us Urtak. Go! I'll hold them off long enough for you to escape."

The sky blackens.

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Lobert stares out at an alien landscape.

Green below him, blue high above; amid the blue is a large orb of bright light.

Where is he?