Hidden behind the trees, I held my breath and kept every muscle still. The steam reactor of my Steampunk armor vibrated softly against my chest, warming the cold metal that encased my body. My eyes locked onto the clearing ahead, where the mercenaries stood frozen, unable to witness what was truly happening in the bushes before them. But I could see.
The dry grass shifted incessantly, pushed by the frantic bodies of the small aberrations. The mercenaries, though blind to the scene, could hear the nauseating sounds of flesh being torn, bones snapping, and hungry throats swallowing. It was enough to drain the color from their faces and shatter their morale.
A buzzing sound sliced through the air…
