The rumbletruck’s wheels

bounced in and out

of a particularly jagged ditch,

jolting

Modanthia the Malformed

from her dream.

Filmy, ill-colored light

shone through the dirty windshield,

lethargically illuminating

the endless Ash Waste before her.

They were halfway between

the Nameless Mountains

and the Kingdom of Basp.

The “road” was barely a shadow.

Modanthia turned to see

her companion, Evil Oak,

smushed into the driver’s seat

of the rumbletruck,

which was too small for him.

His long branches clutched

the chaotically jerking steering wheel

like it was a rabid animal.

“You are awake,” said Evil Oak,

obviously pleased

he was no longer alone

with his thoughts.

“Looks like it,”

Modanthia said dryly.

She knew

he was in love with her.

The rumbletruck

jerked and jumped around them.

“I want to check the merchandise,”

said Modanthia.

“Why? We’re making good time.”

“It’s not exactly a smooth ride,”

she told him.

“Fine,” he sighed,

and slowed down the truck.

The rumbletruck decelerated,

its cataclysmic noise died off,

and the spray of ashen rocks

behind it

diminished like a sail

losing the wind.

Modanthia pushed out through

her heavy door,

into the apocalyptically windless

wasteland,

her boots settling into

the ashen grit of the ground.

Evil Oak

slitherered his trunk

out through his door,

his roots clutching at the

hard gravel surface

of the ground

persistently.

“You sure about this, Anthia?”

Evil Oak asked.

She threw him

a raised eyebrow.

“We know she’s in there,”

he pointed out.

“The customer requires

she be unharmed,”

Modanthia told him.

“The Demiurge favors that

Fearwolf,”

he continued.

“And the Black Owl

favors me,”

scolded Modanthia.

“The Cosmos flows, Oak.

Open the door.”

Evil Oak unclanged the locks,

and drew the tall doors open.

Inside, War Dog was frightened at first,

almost cowed,

until she smelled them —

her gums drew back,

her teeth extended,

and her body erupted

in violent barking and growling.

Evil Oak jumped back;

but War Dog’s neck

was chained to the floor

of the truckbed.

“See?” he asked Modanthia,

his eyes wide.

Modanthia shrugged him off.

“Get her some water,”

she commanded.

Evil Oak went to the side

of the rumbletruck,

and filled a bucket of water.

He spat, and

hesitantly

approached War Dog.

“You better have that remote,”

he said to Modanthia.

“I have it.”

She held the small radio device

in her gloved hand,

her thumb poised above the button.

Evil Oak stepped closer.

War Dog was

furious

with hatred and fear.

“That chain better be strong enough,”

Evil Oak muttered,

as he lifted the bucket

and his branches

within War Dog’s reach.

The chain was not strong enough.

War Dog leaped

with magnificent force and speed,

snapping the chain

in a pinched clang

of flabbergasted steel.

She sunk her fangs deep

into one of Evil Oak’s thick

branch-arms,

inspiring the malevolent tree-man

to wail in pain

and chaotically try

to wrench her grip from him.

Modanthia watched,

her suspicions confirmed.

War Dog whipped her neck

left and right,

tearing into living wood

between the impervious clamp

of her jaws.

Modanthia

activated the remote.

Instantly,

War Dog shrieked in pain,

releasing her jaws

and falling to the ground

in control-shock,

her bravado extinguished

by sorcery-induced agony.

“God damn it, Modanthia!”

Evil Oak cried out,

“Why did you wait so long?”

His finger-branches became sharp.

“I’m going to gut this Hellish beast!”

“Careful, Oak,”

spoke Modanthia,

as she drew her acid pistol

and leveled it at him.

“The customer requires

the merchandise be unharmed.”

Evil Oak examined his

shredded branch-arm.

“You’re sick, Modanthia.

Truly sick.”

War Dog let out a last

whimper

and lost consciousness.

“Put her back in the truck,”

Modanthia told Evil Oak.

“And this time use two chains.

Three if you have them.”

She holstered her acid pistol,

and placed the remote

back in her pocket.

She had needed to know

War Dog’s strength.

She had needed to know

if the control collar would work.

On both counts,

her expectations had been met.

to be continued...