Excitement, 1,292 words

“You wish your Cohort to be allowed leave to attend the next Festival of Tlanxla?” asked the Master of the City’s Works.
“Yes, sir” Mu-Lat the spawning leader addressed.
“Hmmm, I’m just curious. Your spawning has no direct association with Tlanxla. You have not worked with Terradon keepers nor have you fought in many battles. You are workers and foragers. Good workers and foragers, you earned some time off for sure, but why spend it doing this?” asked the Skink chief.
“We can use the excitement. We have never been more than a two or three days’ journey from Tlaxtlan. We can use some excitement. We want to see the exhibitions of the greatest Terradon riders up close.” Replied Mu-Lot.
“Very well, your leave is granted, I hope the flyers do not disappoint.” The Skink chief politely waved him out.

One month later

Twenty-three Skinks, all spawning brothers, were trudging through the shallow swamps west of Tlaxtlan. They were tired from the marching, but excitedly all chirping at once.

“Should we set up camp now?”
“Let’s try to get a few more miles in before dusk. Then we can set up camp.”
“The sun seems to be setting faster than last night.”
“Quit complaining. We are actually going to get to attend the Festival of Tlanxla in Tlanxla. I cannot wait to see all those Terradons in one place!”
“Why aren’t we going around the Piranha Swamps?”
“We are going around! The Piranha Swamps are huge!”
“This is a swamp. Those fish are piranha. We are still on the edge of the Piranha Swamps.”
“You want to go that far south by Quittax? We won’t make the ceremony in time.”
“But the piranha!”
“They aren’t biting. They only go after cold blooded prey when they are desperate for food, so we are safe this time of year.”
“There’s more than piranha in these swamps.”
“We were spawned to march through swamps. We can do this!”
“Is that a salamander’s sail!”
“Mahrlect!”
“SCATTER!” Mu-Lat shouted.

At the cohort leader’s command, the Skinks scattered rapidly. An earthen toned female salamander emerged from the murky depths at the sight of fleeing prey and expelled a bout of flammable gas.

“Attack!” Mu-Lat shouted.

About half the Skinks had enough of their wits to throw a javelin. Most missed or bounced off the Salamanders hide or sail, but enough hit that the Salamander felt it. She receded into the waters and swam away, seeking easier prey.

“Anyone hurt?”
“I got singed a little, but I think I should be okay.”
“Me too.”

Two Skinks brandished the shiny red marks on their arms.

“We better get some aloe on those burns and cover them.”
“How about we put some distance from that Salamander, and then treat them?”

A dozen heads nodded in agreement.
“Agreed” said Mu-Lat.

Eight Hours later

“It’s not supposed to rain this hard unexpectedly this time in the year!” a Skink shouted through the near horizontal rain.

The Skinks turned their faces away from the wind to protect their eyes as tiny hail lashed against their scaly hides.

“Hope the Terradons don’t have to fly in this mess.”
“The Terradons? What about us?”
“Mahrlect, there goes our supply tent.”
“Grab it! Grab it”

A swell of water carried the tent away. Along the swell, a crocodile rode the wave.

“You grab it!”

Fortunately the beast seemed more interested in finding respite from the storm than finding food, but none of the Skinks wanted to tempt the predator.

Mu-Lat took charge and the spawning brothers cautiously gathered what supplies they could salvage.

“It’ll be dawn in a few hours and no one is getting back to sleep, so we might as well get moving. If the rain doesn’t stop we will have to go entirely around the Pirahna Swamps. We’ll be safer on higher ground. Pick up the pace everyone! We need to move faster if we are going to make it to the festival on time”

three days later

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”
“Run! Faster! Faster!”

The ground shook as the two bull Stegadons continued their brawl. They were ignoring the Skinks but that was precious little comfort as they unintentionally felled tree after tree.
A winded Skink turned to his spawning brother scowling.
“Thanks for advising me to run! It never would have occurred to me to get out of the way of TWO ANGRY STEGADONS!”
“You're welcome,” came the equally sarcastic reply.
“Territory fight I guess.” Said a third.
“Maybe a fight over mates.”

There was a loud crash as a tree fell. The jungle reverberated with an ear splitting roar.
“All that fury over mating! Sexual reproduction must surely be a creation of Chaos. I don’t see why the Old Ones didn’t make all life come from pools.”
“Never mind, we need to find the others and regroup. When we get to the thicker foliage and rougher terrain we’ll be out of Stegadon territory, it should be safer away from the larger fauna” Mu-Lat stated.

Two days later

“Into the trees! Quickly!”

The Skinks had killed the first Cold One but a half dozen more followed. The faster ones bought time for the slower ones by raining javelins down at the pack of predators to dissuade them.

By some miracle, all the Skinks safely made it up a tree. Though most of them had to drop their packs and the Cold Ones were savaging them for every scrap of food.
“Thank Tlanxla for granting us speed!”
“Thank Tlanxla for granting us trees.”
“I love trees!”

Three days later

“It’s got me!”
A vine wrapped around a Skink's leg and started dragging him towards the tree trunk nearly twice as thick as a Kroxigor.

“My ankle! Cut it! Cut it!”
“Cut your ankle?

Another spawning brother drew a machete and cut the vine.

“The vine, puddle brain.”

The plants vines and thorns were still writhing. Two Skinks threw javelins which embedded deep in the bark, but the tree didn’t react anymore than a bastladon to a wasp on its shell. It still reached out with its many thorned vines, but the Skinks had all fled a safe distance away.

“I thought carnivorous trees were just a tall tale the Sotek Skinks made up to frighten tadpoles!”
“By the Old Ones, what more can go wrong if the very plants are trying to kill us?”
“I prefer it when we eat the plants, not the other way around!”

Two days later

“We should be very close to Tlanxla now?”
“Good, we are running out of time.”
“Kylek, are you okay?”
“Why are the colors shifting? Woah, look at my claws. They are so big!”
“I told you not to eat that plant…”

The Skink coughed and wretched, his brothers backed away.

"The Cold Ones ate our food, what else could I eat—ack!"
“Don’t worry about Kylek, I think the plants I ate are coming back up….”

One day later

Twenty-three battered, bloodied, and burned Skinks took their seats among the spectator’s viewing platform watching the formations of Terradons flying. A low ranking Skink priest ushered them to some benches

“Ah, you came all the way from Tlaxtlan on foot! This is your first Festival of Tlanxla?”
“Yep.” Mu-Lat replied.
“Made it just in time. This is just practice. The actual festival starts tomorrow.”
“I’m just glad we made it.”

A light green Skink walked over.

“This is our first Festival of Tlanxla too! I can’t wait to see what the Terradon riders, tomorrow will be the most exciting day of our lives! Am I right?”

Mu-Lat looked over his bruised, tired, hungry, burned, poison addled, and scratched brothers and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sure we can all use some more excitement in our lives...”

---

I wanted to write as many prose pieces I could using Lizardmen religious festivals as a plot driver and I got an opportunity in the October-November 2018 Short Story Contest.