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The Trawler problem

  Out in the Wetlands of the mighty river Soar Jerry was not having a good time, he had beached his family's salvage trawler, thanks to a colossal carp and no response had been heard from the nearest village with a port on the river, Jerry Was starting to panic his toughest crewmate Marco a former guard for a Frogman Noble House from the grand cities, had went to scare up some food for himself and his fellow crewmates but he had not returned and Knight had fully set upon them Jerry was fearing for his life they had crashed in the midst of the Wilds and all they had on them was there personal knives and a singular hunting crossbow strong enough to maybe skewer a ants Chitin but hurt a bigger creatures, but he did not have to panic and fear from the possibility anymore, as a short distance away a very audible giggling could be heard, Jerry Buttonsmith a common born Frogman of week moral fibre and a jittery disposition new immediately what's that sound was as he grabbed the Hunting crossbow and got behind his crewmates he yelled in a high-pitched screechy voice, Mouselins, he shouted to his crewmates, they came quickly from the long grass only 4 in tall they were able to put all of their minuscule might into what they did to the crewmates biting at the legs ripping tendons and dog piling unexpecting Frogman the crew was quickly being slaughtered by the nine Mouselins Jerry quickly wound the wire of the crossbow back to to try and fire at the quickly approaching Mouselins putting all the strength of his amphibious body into pulling back the wire and popping in a bolt he managed to take aim at one of the Mouselins the bolt flew true and brought the enemy down leaving them pinned to the vessels Hull but he could not redraw the crossbow quick enough as the remaining eight Mouselins manage to grab him.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

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