Scritcher in the Wood

By Sulla2

Whas that?

I spun around. Saw nothin but the wind. That old goat at the bar musta chilled me nerves. He tells me - Follow the trail tween the hills, pass two streams an look for the ole campsite. That where you see the bigges scritcher ever.

The ole goat. There aint no scritcher round here, big nor lil. Unless, course, that scritcher some smarter than a horse an he hid hisself under that stack o wood. Jes in case then I toss me second spear at that pile. The Orc spear, not the human made one. An it sure did sound to hit hard agin some shell. That musta woke that scritcher an he shook that wood pile off and came roarin right at me.

It were big okay. Bigges I see in a long time. Stood almost as high as me money belt an ever bit as wide. When he got close enough fer me to smell im he stop and lift up his jaws. He lift em up high enough for me spear, the good human one, to find his soft spot. That scritcher did not like that. Nope, not a bit.  An he thrash his legs an spun and claw as that tea kettle whistle scaped through its teeth. An ever move it make I sunk me spear deepa an deepa til he drop. Like a wood log he drop.

So I set to cutting up some o that scritcher meat an I did then notice a particulalee curious thang. That scritcher feet still had some pad on the bottom. Lot of it really. Why, that big scritcher, he jut one lil baby.

Whas that?