He didn’t want to rush them, but he didn’t give them time to dawdle and play. Eating, pooping, and eating some more was enough. When they started to wrestle each other, throwing ten-foot logs at each other, wonking, jumping, and rolling in the dirt, he shouted at them and turned toward the safety of the wall, followed closely by an alert and armed Corporal Tuttle. He wasn’t as worried about safety as much as he was starving. The hunger was more than the usual peckish feeling, or “yeah, I could eat something” type of hunger. If he didn’t eat something soon it felt like his belly button was going to be rubbed raw against his backbone. It didn’t matter how late the hour was, he planned to hunt down Spacer Dollish. He was getting desperate enough to eat a survival nutrition bar, if there were any left at this point. He’d barely stopped himself from sniffing and chowing down on the same leaves his drascos shoveled into their open mouths with such wild abandon.
What do You think about Metal Boxes - Trapped Outside?
