THE flimsy bushes rustled as he scurried through, his tall ears reaching a few inches above; black against black. He ran, jumping over dead roots, flicking lifeless dirt with his feet, until he paused for a moment. His panting was deafening in his ears as he slowly turned to see if he was followed. He was alone but knew he had further to run. His heart beat against the deadly silence until a rumble echoed through the earth.

He began to run again, faster than before, fear chilling his body. He rarely felt fear. It didn’t feel natural to him. But with what followed the rumbles, if you weren’t afraid, you were dead. He’d been running so fast he hadn’t noticed the rising height of the plants around him until the edge of the Wood was in site. The trees grew in a dome shape reaching high above the ground. He reached the perimeter and jogged in. Tyrants would never follow him into the Wood; at least, not alone.

Fear shivered down his body again as he pushed hard against the dirt. The leaf litter was loose and slippery, too dry to stick. He kept running, loosing focus as the rumbles shook the ground again. He was anxious when they stopped short. He jumped over a hedge of short bushes and slid onto the littered ground losing his balance, unable to brace himself in time and skidded along. His hands dragged against the floor, the sharp nettles cutting into his paws. His toes were bloodied and he hissed at the pain. His panting hitched as he felt a yank on his arm, nearly dislocating his shoulder and saw a streak of red.

“I was wondering where you got to.” He huffed as he sprung to his feet. The other flashed a smile under his mask and dodged a low hanging branch. As the trees began to lower themselves, shortening to just above their ears, the two slowed to a jog and passed through the edge of the canopy.

The clearing opened up before them and they were greeted by the sight of their home.

The buildings were short and modest in order to hide amongst the trees, invisible to the Tyrants. They were stark silver and glowed a little from the small sunlight that penetrated the clouds. They were dome shaped with a single rounded window on the top and automatic doors that arched with the wall. They nestled perfectly amongst the Wood, looking brand new despite being several thousand years old. They were in clusters, grouped according to their use. Other Matoki scurried about as the two headed towards the workshop but were stopped.

“Shishi, Dada!” The commander strode over; his pink mask moving with his mouth. “How come it took you so long, huh?”

Both stood at attention as Dada stuttered while Shishi spoke up. “We got into some trouble with a Tyrant, took care of it though.” He spoke straight and clear, no nonsense.

“It’s damn well been taken care of.” Commander Tats sighed and held out his palm. “More importantly, did you get it?” Dada placed the small round object in his hand as he nodded vigorously at the Commander.

Tats fondled the object as Shishi spoke up once again. “Sir,” He placed his hand to his forehead, saluting, “Dada got hurt and he needs to go to the infirmary.”

The commander glanced at the grazes and waved them off, signalling their dismissal, still intently eyeing the small orb. This is it boys, he thought to himself as he peered so closely it feathered his eyelashes.