Chapter 7: Bloody Popcorn Part 1

Mearah was at the rear of the mass of moving Goom, hurrying the stragglers to keep up with the group and trying her best to cover the tracks. She was trying to obscure the passing of such a large group.

It was helpful that the Goom moved naturally through the dense forest and left little sign of passing, to begin with—a few minor spells to straighten a bent branch here, smoothing out the occasional paw print there. Collecting tufts of fur snagged on a thorny branch and storing them in her deep pocket.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t catch all of the traces of the passing of such a large group, which was why Kosmo was helping her perform the task.

She reached for another tuft of fur left behind by Vulso. He was the most inept at moving without leaving a trace.

Then she received a far speak message from Grand-Dam Choch,

‘Adventures in pursuit, we follow to slow them down. Speed is better than concealment. Get away.’

Keeping calm, she moved quickly to Kosmo and shared the news. Kosmo, with a grim expression on his fuzzy face, said,

“I’ll stay with the dibbun. Spread the word.”

Kosmo moved to the group of young Goom and spoke quietly to them as Mearah moved to the group of older Goom at the head of the procession.

“The adventurers are coming. So we need to move quicker. Be safe, but move fast. We aren’t trying to hide anymore. We need to flee.”

Vulso shouted,

“We are fleeing!”

Wat smacked the older Goom on the back of the head and replied,

“Flee faster! Less complaining!”

Vulso rubbed the back of his head but didn’t say anything else as the entire group of Goom started to jog without sprinting. The sound of their passage increased as conservative movements were abandoned in favor of speed.

Snapping twigs and panting could be heard from the group as they scurried along without any thought other than escape starting to flood their minds. Borderline panicked haste lent speed to their short fuzzy limbs. Some of the group dropped to all fours to aid in stability.

Finally, after several minutes of this frantic flight, the group stumbled into a small clearing in the woods. A rumbling series of growls erupted from the other side, stopping the group amidst their flight.

Three silver and black forms, one with a crown of purple fur larger than the other two, emerged from the other side of the clearing. The oversized badgers slowly moved to the center of the clearing as the Goom stumbled to a halt.

The smaller pair with the crowned animal was still twice the size of the largest Goom—an intimidating sight for the dibbun to witness so early in their short lives.

The adult Goom gathered tighter around their dibbun, forming a loose half-circle around them. Danger to the dibbun was more important to prevent than squabbling between some of them. This was evident as Vulso, one of the older Goom and typically irascible, stepped ahead of the group and muttered irritably,

“Damn, bad-girs.”

He drew himself to his total of two feet of furry fury, and tiny sparks of electricity started to crackle along his claws, slowly growing into more impressive arcs. He stated loudly to the bad-girs,

“We are not interested in you. So step aside, and we can all keep moving.”

The crowned Bad-gir snarled a reply,

“Moving or not, we’re still hungry,”

With that, it charged the group along with its companions. Vulso’s claws flashed with lightning bolts as he cast his paws towards the on rushers.

The bolts struck crowned bad-gir before he was bowled over and used as a chew toy by the larger mob. Vulso tussled with his enemy, and furrows raked into his hide from the sharp claws. Then, shouting in pain, he threw his enemy off with difficulty.

He took to a knee, panting at the effort. He clambered back to his feet with a gasp before hurrying into the scrum,

“Gotta stop eating moles.”

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The remaining adult Goom swarmed the two other bad-gir as they rushed the group. Snarls and chittering squeals of pain echoed through the forest as the dibbun watched the random chaos of battle play out as they backed toward the edge of the clearing.

The dibbun were so focused on the scrum before them that they didn’t notice the other four bad-gir emerging from the forest behind them. Jerry was seized by the shoulder. Rag dolling in the jaws of one of them as he let out a shriek of pain.

A loud crunch was heard coming from his shoulder. Dropping the wounded dibbun, it rushed the remaining Goom children, who had scattered as Jerry was attacked.

The bad-gir that downed Jerry leaped towards another fleeing prey. It caught Roeisa from behind just as she was about to escape into the brush and savaged her fiercely with its jaws.

Then, its companions jumped onto three other dibbun, Sek, Daris, and Gina, who were also quickly seized by the larger and more apparently dangerous mobs.

More high-pitched squeals of pain came from the dibbun, causing some other adult Goom to look away from their struggle. Their eyes to lit up in furious anger at the sight of their children under attack.

Seeing his friends being torn into pieces and unable to stop it, Goom shrieked in fear and fled back into the forest. He had to escape. The carnage was too much.

Vulso, dodging and weaving to avoid the swipes of the largest crowned bad-gir, glanced briefly at the sound of screaming dibbun and called out to his fellow Goom,

“Chichi! Wat! Tearisa! Save the dibbun! We’ll keep these busy!”

The glance cost Vulso as his opponent dealt a savage blow and opened his flesh in a long line, allowing things that weren’t meant to see the light of day to have a coming-out party. He let out one last cry of pain as he fell.

Mearah and Kosmo, knowing Vulso could not be saved from his wound, had started to double-team one of the bad-girs near the crowned mob. Striking it in turns, they kept it spinning and snarling as they struck its flanks.

A slightly more careless dart in to strike its flanks left Kosmo with a nasty series of gashes on his flank as he retreated. Then, with his movement hobbled, he started sending out short blasts of cold and heat from his paws to distract their opponent, as Mearah kept it busy with short strikes and dodges.

Seeing her son injured on the ground and screaming in pain, Chichi started to panic. She grasped her opponent's head and pulled it into her deep pocket, the Bad-gir’s body flailing wildly as it was consumed into the space in her chest.

Seeing half of the larger animal sticking halfway out of her chest and being drawn in was a terrible comedy amidst a tragic play. A visage of rage covered her face as she screamed.

Wat cried out at the sight as he slammed his claws into his opponent. Then, he unleashed a concentrated blast of heat that cooked it from the inside.

He panted at the effort as he cried,

“Chichi, no!”

His opponent dropped to the forest floor, writhing and shrieking. He rushed to his partner’s side as the last of the Bad-gir she was consuming disappeared into her just before he could snatch it back.

A glow covered her entire form as she clutched her chest in pain. Chichi started to convulse as she doubled in size, and her fur changed to show a faint pattern, similar to the bad-gir.

Her muzzle elongated as sharper teeth started to force their way out of her existing jawline, and her muzzle lengthened, giving her a more savage appearance. As her frame expanded in mass and size, her claws lengthened.

She let loose a guttural, coughing roar of rage. It shivered the ground around her and drew the attention of the bad-gir savaging the dibbun.

Wat looked sad as the glow lessened. He witnessed the finishing transformation of his significant other with melancholy resignation. Then, looking around at the sad state of his fellow Goom’s battles, he decided.

He leaped onto one of the bad-girs approaching Chichi’s transformed self and started to pull it into his deep pocket in his chest. The bad-gir flailed with muffled shrieks as it was consumed into his chest. His transformation started with a soft glow.

Tearisa, looking at the broken and crumpled forms of the dibbun under their care let loose her own shriek of rage, charging the mobs. She started consuming her own victim who had been near the broken bodies of the dibbun. Another change started to take place amongst the Goom.

The largest of the Bad-gir observed these events with trepidation. After disabling his opponent he realized they had been grossly misinformed. These “small nuisances”, as the strange human had called them, were terrifying.

Brett knew he would be furious with anything that threatened his own cubs. But he had never witnessed the mindless fury taking place.

His remaining brethren were quickly being overcome by the larger, more powerful opponents they now faced. The three altered Goom were tearing them apart.

The sounds of fierce growls and snarling were coming only from the goom, now. Whimpers and howls of pain as they attempted to escape were coming from his fellows.

After their foes had been rendered into pieces the altered Goom started moving towards the few remaining Bad-gir. Knowing that his brethren couldn’t face these creatures and survive, he quickly charged the two unaltered Goom that were left. They were ganging up on one of his few remaining troops.

Bowling the two Goom over, he let his subordinate start savaging the downed enemies. Brett fled in pursuit of the smaller Goom that had ran earlier in the fight. He hoped it wouldn’t be as dangerous.

The three altered Goom fell on the ones inflicting mortal wounds to Kosmo and Mearah. The rabid Goom tore into them like children unwrapping presents.

As the last visible foe fell they started to feed on the remains of all the fallen. The desire to chase more prey when there was a buffet of fresh carrion laying about was non-existent.

It was unfortunate, but the new instincts forcing themselves on the altered Goom could not be argued with. Like a pack of starving dogs overwhelmed by new instincts they weren’t picky about the source of the meal, or the consequences of focusing on it.

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