Chapter 48: An attack.
THE DELINTERS WERE on the move. Oi, the damn creatures were heading this way. Nigel had guessed they would come. Peltratria smelled like sweet barberries and sounded like a dying fogou fish—an irresistible beacon.
The ground heaved, a violent tremor as mighty hooves, like battering rams, trampled everything in their path. Nigel’s eyes snapped behind him, peering through the thick, interwoven wall of leaves. A sickening crack and crunch echoed in the distance as a tree crashed, then another. His mum used to call delinters “cranky horned hippos,” and his creator found it “cute.”
Nothing about an angry herd of delinters was cute.