—Scene 27— Spring Shower

Ta'Zan had expected more chaos—some dozen dead dragonflies by now. Even an encounter with one of the many behemoths that call this swamp their home. 

But a human? 

His clothes were in tatters, hanging off a frame that looked half-starved. Bare feet, caked in mud, stumbled with each step. No weapons, no supplies. Just the cloak—wrapped around him like a lifeline. It swirled around his body, pulsating in the shadows with every wasted, frightened step he took to evade his pursuers.

It was a spectacle indeed. 

"Another human," the words felt foreign in his mouth. The whole concept felt like an impossibility to him since he turned twelve. 

But there he was scampering around the swamp floor getting nicked by two nipping dragonflies as they pushed and shoved him onto the ground. The fear that emanated from the strangers' yelps and screams brought Ta' Zan out of his astonishment. The poor thing flailed like a gnoll pup seeing the cliff's edge for the first time. He didn't want to imagine how he would fare once the rest showed up– let alone how long he'd survive.

Ta' Zan could hear the horde of the hive moving closer. The vibration of their wings created a foreboding drumming sound whenever they pinpointed a target. 

He only had a few moments before they were upon them. He let the rope droop over the branch he was standing on and placed the hook under his shoe before dropping himself once more to the bottom. As he fell he grabbed the rope with both hands and hastily descended to the bottom. His hands burned under the friction but ignored it as he focused on the human below. He landed harder than he liked. Time wasn't on his side—maybe luck wasn't either.

Ta' Zan rummaged through his gear all the while rushing to the dark figure in front of him now. A small vial appeared in his hand. His focus was completely on the man although the drumming in the background was hard to ignore at this point.

The man was on his knees at this point. No doubt affected by the toxins each nip left after each encounter with the dragonflies. The man turned, wide-eyed, confusion and fear battling for control of his face. His eyes sunken over his pale tight face.

'Perfect.'

Ta'Zan uncorked the vial. No time for warnings. Just one swift motion—and the stench of gnoll urine hit like a punch inside your nose– palpable in your mouth from five feet away– worse if it got into it.

Cuthbert screamed louder than anyone Ta'Zan had heard since his father's torture days—a sound he hadn't missed. Cuthbert's eyes burned as they turned red and started dry gagging with the little energy he had left. 

Maybe he had time to warn his new friend to close his mouth and eyes before he threw Gnoll urine on his face. But Ta' Zan remembered his first time accidentally getting some in his eyes and mouth, as he grabbed hold of Cuthbert's cloak and hid both of them underneath it. 

'It's not that bad.'

The sound of drums was upon them, no longer a distant call. The wings and bodies all swarming around the lump of flesh hidden underneath the tarp. His new companion quickly went quiet then limp in Ta 'Zan's arms. His breathing was labored but steady. Besides the foul odor that the urine produces, it was still just urine at the end of the day. These days, Ta'Zan barely even noticed the smell.

'Good' thought Ta' Zan. 'He can still breathe.' The dose of toxin of each dragonfly is low so the few cuts Ta' Zan felt on Cuthbert's body didn't concern him too much. What did concern him was the tear of skin and flesh he found on his left arm. It was clear as day to Ta' Zan that this was the initial point of contact with the dragonfly silk that alerted the colony, although the cloak made it impossible to see anything at all. Ta' Zan reached into another pouch and started dressing Cuthbert's wounds regardless.

The cloak dampered the noise outside– left them in complete darkness, as the swarm continued to bump into the men under the cloak. The air vibrated as the wings of the insects swirled the air around them.

Ta' Zan ignored the buzzing outside. Instead, he focused on the man in his arms—his new, unexpected problem. He adjusted the cloak, making sure it stayed tight over them while also letting just enough light in to examine the man's wounds. He began stitching the arm patiently as he waited for the chaos outside to pass like one would wait for a rainshower to pass by on a lazy afternoon.