Shrieks of anger and surprise echoed out from the swarm as I took in the sight of the ambushing pack of ishabaaks. There were at least 20 of the beasts, and they were nearly impossible to detect before they struck.

I rushed over to the site of the nearest attack, but was too slow to stop the ishabaak from somehow pulling its keelish prey down into the sand, where a garbled, muffled shrieking slowly died out. My [Combatant’s Bloodlust] active and my blood chilled, I waited for the beast to resurface. Somewhere behind me, I could hear Took wordlessly screaming in challenge to something before barking out orders. I shook myself, forcing focus on the task at hand, waiting for a rumble, a shifting of sand, something to anticipate the approach of my prey.

There was nothing. No sand falling, no sound, no… wait. A small divot appearing in the sandy expanse, and I, trusting my instincts, lunged forward in an uppercut just in time to have my claws and then my fingers sink deep into the soft spot below the ishabaak’s jaw. With a roar of exertion, I hauled the beast out of the sand and began to set into its soft belly with my jaws.

With a single snick of my fangs I pierced through the rough skin, then, with just two quick bites, I ripped the viscera from the dying ishabaak’s abdomen. I left it bleeding and gasping as I rushed towards the main group of the ambushers. They were brown their scales were larger and smoother than those of the keelish, obviously designed for a near-frictionless body that could slide effortlessly through the loose sand that was their home. The same scales, however, were easy to rip through, almost as if it were a textured skin. Their mouths, however, bristled with sharp teeth and could open wide enough to eat a regular keelish nearly whole.

With the element of surprise slowly fading, the swarm was finding its feet as they tried to find a way to protect themselves from the perfect ambushers. I pulsed my magic to my throat, the flow comfortable and immediate as I began to speak and pulse my magic to [Innervating Address],

“We are many! Stay with your pack and don’t let them drag any under! No fewer than ten per group!”

Growls and shrieks of affirmation filled the air as the packs gathered together and rallied against any ishabaak’s approach. Still too were there groans of pain and flecks of blood flying, the low roar of flames bursting and the earth heaving lending to the general chaos and obvious danger… yet survival was still much more likely if the wounded were kept above the ground. How to stop them from approaching unseen? Sybil’s voice cut through the din of rallying troops and battle,

“Stay near the water!” Near her a flood began to flow from the wolfstags and into the surrounding sand. It stuck together while the ishabaaks began to flee from the approaching sandy mud. One was caught in the thicker earth and found itself pressing its nose desperately into the unforgiving sand while enraged keelish surrounded and began to devour it. The ishabaak’s blood mixed and flowed with the water onwards towards the still dry sand.

Seeing the ishabaak change their approach and begin to escape, I pulsed sonic waves into the earth in a bid to stop them. Instead of causing any damage or visible discomfort, I internally saw a slight picture of what surrounded me, my swarm bleeding and suffering from the attack of the ishabaak, Sybil, Isnanna, and the wolfstags behind me, Took ripping into her latest prey still thrashing on the ground, the [System] notification–the [System]!

[Tremorsense Skill acquired.]

I guessed that was what I just did. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to care about it as the swarm gathered together on the solid, wet sand. Sybil was directing the wolfstags to continue providing more water as the wounded were brought to Alaster and Vefir for healing if they needed it, or more mundane treatment by those trained by the two healers if their wounds were less severe. Gathered together, the swarm was about 250 strong without the deserters, and more khatif evolved by the day. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved that no Zak’Tal evolved beyond my own offspring, but the spawnlings from Farahlia’s swarm were adults at this point and most had evolved to Hak’Tal, Kha’Tal, and Sik’Tal. There were two exceptions to that: Khara, the male that had stood up to me at my self-introduction, and Faaral, a mutilated female I hadn’t taken notice of before.

Both had evolved into Sou’Tal, nobility. Khara was broader than most Sou’Tal, but he had obviously experienced the mental acuity and grace of the caste, even if he retained a hint of the ferocity of Hak’Tal. Faaral had regained mobility in her spine, while her face still bore the scars of deliberate and jealous injury. Both had begun to grow out of their reticence and held themselves with pride, with Faaral especially taking pride in being greater than her mother.

At the head of the spawnlings stood Ishtar and Iituli as they took stock of their 50 subordinates, Isnanna hanging near her mother instead of in the position of leadership. Between the small number of their surviving brood and the large number of those from our recent acquisition, they were Alphas over fully one fifth of our entire swarm, and, it seemed that they were more than successful in their leadership.

“Casualty report!” I called out, looking at the triplets and Second. Iituli stepped forward, “We lost three to the ambush, five wounded, no others of import.” I noted the blood streaked across his copper scales, some his own, but most that of his prey. Ishtar nodded in agreement, her own body painted with gore, while Isnanna knelt in the back, totally clean and dripping water.

“The rest of the swarm suffered thirteen deaths and no permanent injuries beyond a couple toes and fingers lost.” Second’s report was quick and clinically detached.

“I only reported the wounded because they have not yet received treatment, Alpha! They will be fine!”

“Peace, Iituli. I do not worry about how you report to me.” I smiled wryly at my overeager son who caught himself in his childish outburst and withdrew slightly with his crest and frills shuddering slightly in embarrassment.

“Beta Sybil, any casualties for the wolfstags?”

“No, no injuries either.”

“Perfect, they seem to be our passage out of here, so, thank you for your quick thinking.”

Sybil looked to Isnanna, then, after only a moment’s hesitation, nodded in acceptance.

I nodded, and, for the sake of the swarm, raised my voice. “Considering what they were, we came out of that about as well as could be expected. Well done.” I could hear slaps on the back and muttered congratulations spread through the swarm as I continued, “Grab any meat you can reach and we’ll lead the swarm back to the firmer earth these creatures don’t seem to be able to traverse. Beta, you’re in charge of creating and maintaining a clear, wet path out of the sand. We leave immediately.”

The swarm, with our blood already pumping, was quick to gather what spoils there were from the fight and follow the path the wolfstags and Childra created. It wasn’t long before the sparsely grown grasses in sand were replaced with the dense foliage of the grasslands that grew up to and past my head. With my first steps onto the firm earth, I sighed while glancing back at what we had escaped–there was nothing to gain from following through such a dangerous habitat.

“We will give up the chase for now,” I announced to the swarm in Keelish. “The cowards will be allowed a brief release from our hunt, but they will be brought to heel.” Dissatisfied shrieks and grunts agreed with me as I transitioned to speak in the common tongue, “Now, what can we do for you, the natives to the area?”

A large head with massive ears framing it pushed through the grass to approach. Two tusks jutted forward from its mouth and a serpentine trunk dangled down its face as the stranger leaned forward in to look at me. With a sonorous basso voice, thickly accented common tongue responded, “Well now, that is surprise.”