Run Ashore In A Primitive Land

*Kerchunk-unk-unk-unk* The squeal of machinery wakens Cain Thaler with a sudden shock that knocks the half finished glass of Cabernet (the seventh or eighth one, if he recalls) to the ground. Despite his own vow to the contrary, he succumbed to the temptations and now finds himself in quite a fluster.

Where are they?

The scraping and shaking of the boat tells him all he needs to know. They have run aground.

The jungle is close now – much too close. And is that a pair of eyes staring at him from the darkness?

One of his drunken cohorts is wandering off the boat to shore. The warning is barely out of Cain’s mouth when *snap*; the young man is snagged abruptly by an unseen appendage, hidden from Cain’s view. The cry of surprise is cut short, as the body disappears from sight – followed swiftly by the sickening crunch of bones and moaning whimpers of pain.

Before silence.

“What have you gotten yourself into now, ‘ol Khana”, Cain thinks to himself.