The flying black box slowly made its way down from the sky. Bato watched silently a few paces back from the edge of the clearing in front of him, keeping his body stock still. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. Today was the day he would bring this thing down. He wanted the treasure trove of goodies that he was positive were hidden inside. Every time it came, the short, black intruders would hop out. He was unsure if they were like the other short ones in the village, or if they were different. Either way, they always had an assortment of the strange metal contraptions he loved to tinker with tied to their bodies, and one of the loud death throwers in their hands.

But he would need to be patient. He knew it was better to wait than to attack now. He had to make sure they would not notice him or he would be on the receiving end of the invisible death their strange little weapons could throw. The ones in the side opening always seemed more tense as the box approached, compared to after it began to fly again. He would have to wait for that moment.

Bato had studied the box on many occasions. The intruders would exit into a circle around the box, then move to a closer formation after the box took off. They would be less observant during that moment. He had also toyed around with small wooden models he had created of the box, attempting to understand how it flew. It had been an exercise in futility; the ones he made never flew. He had, however, discovered that if one of its wings were removed, it would typically tumble to that side. He prayed to the god of the hunt his hunch was correct.

As the intruders began to spill out, Bato slowly reached for the tasset over his thigh. The whole affair might have appeared to be mismatched metal plates thrown together, but they were part of a whole set that Bato prided himself on making. Among the hodge-podge of iron and steel was a small bar which he grabbed and gave a good yank. The metal clunked as it locked into place with a similarly sized bar, doubling its length. As he finished pulling the contraption from its holster, Bato’s prey began to lift off the ground.

The device appeared to be a small tomahawk, made of scrap parts from the ruins he loved to scavenge. The weapon had latches below the head, and halfway down the handle, allowing it to be folded into a smaller size, easily hidden among his armor. He crept his arm back, ready for the opportune moment. Once the box was a good three, perhaps four, leaps in the air, it began to tilt to the left.

NOW! He thought, whipping his arm around hard, aiming for the spot the wing met the body. The weapon arced through the air, its flight curving in from his right, and slammed into the underside of the wing, ripping through nearly three meters of the box's skin. The box tilted madly, pulled itself level, and began to spin around, the small men in the front coming into view. They seemed to have been taken fully by surprise, one of them moving his arms frantically around the small space behind the invisible barrier.

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It did not play out as he hoped it would, instead moving in the direction of the cliff. That was unfortunate, he had planned on it crashing down on the intruders below it. Two birds with one stone. He watched it, only turning his head after it reached the edge of his vision. The wing he had damaged suddenly ripped up and free, flying off on a different trajectory from the main body. The box tumbled hard, quickly disappearing over the cliff. He heard the metal rend as it hit the ground below, followed by a boom and the woosh of a large fire.

That’s odd. Why would there be fire? Metal doesn’t burn, it just becomes red like Gal’gol and more easily workable. Was the box not made of metal? He had heard metal when it hit the ground though. He worried his kill would be unsalvageable. But he didn’t have time to sit and ponder. The intruders had been shouting frantically and reorganizing themselves as they tried to figure out what had occurred. Now, however, two of them were gesturing in his direction, drawing the attention of their companions. As they scrambled into a strange formation, he heard the first crack of their invisible death.

Bato snarled at them. Quickly turning he threw his weight forward into a headlong dash for the cliffside. Each thrust of his legs took him nearly his full height, and he pumped his legs faster than those of the animals his village preyed upon.

The intruders watched in disbelief as their target crossed nearly eighty meters of wooded land in only a few short seconds, before the nearly two and a half meter, metal cased beast jumped off the cliff. They barely registered the massive metal contraption on his back before he disappeared over the edge. Several of them were quickly on their feet, running to take a look at the wreckage the monster had fallen towards.

Bato slammed into the ground over a hundred meters below, taking two quick steps to help absorb some of the impact. He twisted to look at the burning wreckage of the box, hand resting on a large handle in the lower corner of the device on his back. He watched hesitantly for a second, unsure if it would move again. He approached cautiously, but saw the dead body of one of the intruders inside.

No time to waste, he thought, reaching in and easily pulling the body out. The heat was intense enough to hurt his skin, but he noticed the fire was burning on the ground. It released an acrid, black smoke into the sky similar to, but more intense than the sap he used to keep torches burning longer. The second and third bodies were easily accessible to him, and he grabbed them out as well. As he was removing them he noticed a longer version of the death throwers was attached to a strange metal arm, pushed up against the edge of the opening to the interior. He moved towards it, shielding his face as he came closer to the fire. Finally he would have one of those incredible weapons.

But it was not to be. The loud crack of the invisible death echoed off the cliff. The intruders above were pointing at him as they brought their weapons to bear. Bato growled angrily; a low, thrumming from deep in his chest. He wanted more time, but it would be unwise to say. He could only look longingly at the prizes we would have to leave behind. Instead he grabbed the three bodies, slinging the smallest over his shoulder and dragging the other two behind him. Their feet left ruts in the ground as he quickly pushed his way into the forest.