The next day dawned with the same, relentless drudgery. At the rear of the new convoy, Klicker stood waiting, his figure rigid with anticipation. The harvesting plains beckoned them once again.
Skray arrived, as usual, trailing behind time. His position at the end of their 20,000-strong convoy seemed an unspoken agreement. “And off we go again, like clockwork,” he muttered, his gaze locked on the ground, his face a canvas of fatigue and resignation.
Klicker cast a sideways glance. “Late as always. Some things never change, do they?” He tried to infuse a hint of lightness into his voice.
“The scouts found a new harvesting ground,” Klicker added, his words carrying a tremor of excitement, as if the very notion of discovery could lighten their heavy reality.
Skray's reaction was immediate, his body tensing, eyes widening in alarm. “They did what? They changed our course again?” His voice was a whisper of terror. “We're walking into a death trap!”
A sharp kick from Klicker jolted Skray, cutting through his panic. “Keep it together,” he hissed under his breath.
Two soldiers approached from behind, their presence like a looming shadow. “Is there a problem here?” one asked, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air.
Klicker straightened, offering a forced smile. “No, Sir. Just a joke between friends.” His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety.
Skray, still recovering from the kick, managed only a grimace that barely resembled a smile.
“Move out!” the second soldier barked, and the convoy lurched into motion.
Klicker and Skray, nursing their own thoughts and fears, fell into step with the rest, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily upon them.
After what felt like an eternity of marching, they arrived at a site strewn with remnants of food - leftovers from one of the colossal beings that haunted these lands. The risk was clear: if spotted, they wouldn't stand a chance.
Skray's gaze flickered to Klicker, his eyes wide with fear. Between gasps for air, he whispered, “This is the end for us.”
Klicker, ever the pragmatist, rolled his eyes and set to work. The next hours were spent scraping meat from a monstrous pile and salvaging anything edible.
As they labored, time seemed to blur. Laden with their harvest, the workers began their trek back. Without warning, a vast shadow enveloped them. The ground quaked beneath a massive step, a guttural growl resonating through the air, its power vibrating in their very bones.
Skray's terror erupted. “Oh, my queen, save us!” he cried, bolting toward the safety of their tunnel. Klicker, with a steadier nerve, followed close behind.
Then, a thunderous crash shook the earth, halting their desperate sprint. Glancing over his shoulder, Klicker witnessed a horrific scene - a giant leg had smashed into their path, crushing dozens beneath its weight.
A deep, unintelligible rumble filled the air, the giant creature seemingly uttering something beyond their comprehension. To Klicker, it felt like a display of triumph.
“Keep moving! They relish our demise!” Skray yelled back, his fear propelling him forward.
Reaching the tunnel, Klicker and Skray plunged into its relative safety. As they navigated the familiar path home, a heavy realization dawned on them – they, and those who left before them, were the sole survivors of the day's harrowing ordeal.
Stefan:
What if towering Titans, bigger than any mountain range, would roam the earth? How would we survive?