The Fall of Generals Evy and Renar

The bush rises to the window, helped by the wielded shards a boy of 12 conjures from his aquamarine crest at the palm of his hand, and by them the bush gains a shimmering-opalescent illumination, and the countenance of what must be called a warrior fruberry bush; thus staring at Evy are thick eyebrowed, leering cat-like eyes, and lips hooked like an upside down “v,”  almost managing to make the haggard bush (that’s been through a lot today) look prepared for holy war or like an angry chickoren—the domesticated kind, not the ones roaming far from Silcontra which reach a height of 2 meters as juveniles. “Release my children from your bread, and you, your kin, your kin’s kin, and your father will be spared a berry bad bushwhacking!” 

Guffaws of laughter from both Evy and her twin brother challenge the silence and… fwushfwushfwush! A ringing around the house stops the entertainment as if reaction time was being tested under life and death conditions. Renar tucked the warrior bush under his arm to run into the woods in the direction completely opposite to the source of the noise. Evy took a bite of the fruberry bread loaf–”tastes like a chickoren salad sandwich, decent final meal”–so that she at least is sentenced to death for disobeying the Sibling Nap Protection Clause (SNPC from now on as it is infringed upon often enough to merit an acronym) with a happy stomach—though she might petition for pardon given the technicality that she was “possessed” by the spirit of Aymara, meaning that he should receive the full brunt of the punishment instead, wherever he was (an argument for the most logically oriented which the newly awakened feral sibling was not). As expected given the nap schedule, the noise came from the sound-rippling unraveling of a luminescent yellow-gilded ribbon ascending from the burrow annex window. The “dragnos lair” as most members of the main house refer to it, rests a few feet below the cottage and accounts for the knoll at the home’s foundation. The window faces the west side of the cottage making it impossible for the oncoming attack to have been predicted or repelled from the Eastern front. For the Eastern battalion commanded by generals Evy, the crafty butterknife demon, and Renar, the conjurer of soul tickles who was now running away, there was no hope for saving the garrison of fruberry warriors—though they would be left untouched as they’re part of the day’s meal and Naga loves fruberry bread. Naga, Nagnag when lengthened, woke up hungrier than usual, and when this is the case the full assortment of his shard spectrum is at his command making him into a monster of mythic proportions (as to why this happens, not even the aura specialists of Silcontra can give a scientific reason).

“You BRATS! Which one of you was it, HMM?! WHO cooked?! Who would dare cook…when I’m hungry?!!”

When no response came but Evy’s silent chewing, perhaps even the sound of her eyes gaining some moisture, fiery-eyed Naga bit into the ribbon projecting from a pouch on his hip, which he uncomfortably leaves on while sleeping, to hitch a ride on it, like a true dragnos who clenches its pinky sized-teeth fixedly on fast-moving objects out of curiosity, till he catches sight of the nonplussed Evy. No one should expect anyone but Naga to possess this ability as it was one which he learned from the grueling training to gain a jaw proficient in eating giant boramboo, the only wielder known to possess such an ability, on his expedition to the northern Absurdinian Mountains which sit at the border of Porra’s territory. 

I’d be remiss not to mention Renar. He was caught. Not much thought went into catching him on Naga’s part since the deed was done by the unofficial duchess of Silcontra, Thricket the fruberry slayer, using her signature move the “Thrickety Twirling Supernova Headbutt.” 


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