Chapter 43: Fighting a centroid.

Chapter 43: Fighting a centroid.

BACK WHEN HIS mum, Elspeth, was alive, she called a centroid a scorpion. She’d always said she used to see the small bugs when she lived in Australia. There was nothing small about a centroid. The glistening black creature towered over Nigel, its segmented body casting a long, ominous shadow.

He was absolutely not in the mood for this today.

The scorpion darted from the dense bush, its segmented tail arcing high, ready to strike. That tail was the worst part of these bloody insects. The front pinchers were sluggish, almost comically slow, so he never worried about those. The tail, however, was wicked fast, spreading open to reveal two gleaming, razor-sharp blades that could slice through anything.

That included a Dagerstanteen, even with their skin hardened to its utmost.