Chapter 9 : Bloody Popcorn Part 1

  Mearah struggled to obscure the passage of so many of her friends and family through the woods. Natural movement by creatures used to forest living was helpful, but the younglings were making things more difficult. Without Kosmo’s help, it would have been hopeless.

  Her antennae twitched in irritation as she reached for another tuft of fur left behind by Vulso. His dirty white fur clump clinging to the thorn bush was a testament to him being old enough to know better and grumpy enough not to care.

  A farspeak message from Gramma Choch caused her to freeze with her paw extended,

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

  She moved quickly to Kosmo and shared the news quietly. Kosmo, with a grim expression on his fuzzy face, said,

  “I’ll stay with the younglings. 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. 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’s dingy claws grazed his fur where he had been smacked in grumpy but thankfully silent resignation. The 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 as panic mounted caution and started to violate the harassment policies of the universe. Escalating panicked haste lent speed to their short, fuzzy limbs. Some of the group dropped to all fours to aid in stability.

  In their haste, the group blindly stumbled into a small clearing in the woods. A rumbling series of growls erupted from the other side, tumbling the disorderly retreat into a scattered spread of mewling younglings and cursing adults.

  Three silver and black forms, the largest sporting a crown of purple fur, chattered aggressively at the Goom as they emerged from the brush. The younglings collectively skittered away from the animals three times their size and snarling.

  The adult Goom gathered tighter around their young, forming a loose half-circle around them. Vulso’s irritable old goom demeanor scowled as his grumpiness found a target worthy of scorn muttered irritably,

  “Bad-girs. Hrmff.”

  He drew himself to his total of two feet of ragged fured fury, and tiny sparks of electricity started to crackle along his weathered claws. The arcs grew steadily into a more impressive display as he snarled back,

  “Move aside or be moved.”

  The crowned Bad-gir snarled a reply,

  “Moving makes me 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 flung by Vulso hit the crowned bad-gir before his much smaller form was bowled over and used as a chew toy by the larger monster. Vulso briefly tussled with his enemy and exchanged stripes of torn lines into the bad-girs hide for holes in his own. Shouting in pain, he threw his enemy off with difficulty.

  The purple prince of the bad-gir yelped in surprise and pain as he tumbled away from the unexpected resistance in an undignified yelp of pain.

  Vulso took to a knee, panting at the effort of the brief tussle. He clambered back to his feet with a gasp and clutched briefly at the bite wounds puncturing his shoulder. He panted as he charged the bad-gir,

  “Gotta stop eating moles.”

  The remaining adult goom swarmed the princely hench bad-gir as they charged the younglings. Snarls and chittering squeals of pain echoed through the forest as the young goom watched the random chaos of battle play out and backed toward the edge of the clearing.

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  The younglings, understandably distracted by the battle before them, were unobservant of 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, he let out a shriek of pain.

  Gomm froze in horror as a loud crunch was heard coming from Jerry’s shoulder. Dropping the wounded Goom, it flashed after the movement of the white-furred forms fleeing before it. Its body shoulder checked Gomm’s frozen form into a tree in passing as the bad-gir’s companions were driven to rush the fleeing prey.

  Three other younglings, Sek, Daris, and Gina, were quickly seized by the vicious beasts. Sek was the new unwilling participant in a bad-gir tug of war. High-pitched squeals of pain and fear came from the younglings.

  Some of the adult Goom looked away from their struggle at the sound. Their red eyes began glowing in furious anger at the sight of their children under attack.

  A nightmare born into the world before his eyes, Goom shrieked in fear and fled back into the forest.

  Escape! Must escape!

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

  “Chichi! Wat! Tearisa! Save the younglings!”

  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. The purple prince leaped upon the new meal before him and snarled viciously as he began to feast.

  Mearah and Kosmo, cried out at Vulso’s fate. They 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 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 Jerry 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 the body 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 younglings.

  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 new form and started to consume it with his deep pocket. The bad-gir flailed with muffled shrieks as it was consumed into his chest as he shrieked in pain and started to convulse. His transformation started with the obscenity of a falsely comforting soft glow.

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

  The largest of the Bad-gir observed these events with trepidation. He had lost himself briefly in his hunger. Seeing his brethren being consumed helped him realize they had been grossly misinformed. These “small nuisances”, as the strange human had called them, were terrifying.

  Beastly ferocity paled next to beastly insanity. 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. The 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 subordinates start savaging the downed enemies in a blind hunger. Brett fled in pursuit of the smaller Goom that had run 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 lying about was non-existent.

  It was unfortunate, but the new instincts forcing themselves on the altered Goom could not be argued with. A new pack of starving animals overwhelmed by new instincts began feeding. A temporary loss of sapience helped them feed, fueling their new forms.

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