“Now I
know I’m insane,” Pangaea muttered as he charged towards Screech. As Screech opened his jaws to seize him, he stuffed the tree sweet he was carrying inside the fast biter’s mouth. This prompted an immediate fit of spitting and gagging from Screech, who scrabbled frantically at the inside of his mouth with his claws, shoveling out chunks of smashed tree sweet.
But Pangaea wasn’t finished yet. With Screech too busy scraping tree sweet juice out of his mouth to slash at him with his claws, the recklessly intrepid glider jumped up onto his back. Utilizing his newfound climbing skills, he then scaled the fast biter’s neck like a tree trunk, until he straddled the nape, leaning forward over Screech’s brow. Then, borrowing a trick from one of his favorite slapstick comedians, he splayed the pointer and index fingers on one hand into a V, and simultaneously drove both digits into Screech’s eyes.
Screech howled in pain. For a moment he thought he had been blinded, the way Red Claw had, but a few seconds later he realized that his vision was coming back; the black spots in front of his eyes gradually shrinking; blurred images sharpening to their usual clarity.
Seething with rage, he glanced around the clearing until he spotted Pangaea, who had scrambled up a nearby tree while Screech had been flailing about in agony, and was now watching him from atop the highest branch.
Screech determined then and there that his mission had a new priority: to kill the feathered red glider. True, he thought, the young leafeaters and their sharptooth companion had humiliated him and his hunting partners on more occasions than he could keep track of, but none of them had ever had the audacity to physically assault him in such an underhanded manner. Now he fully understood Red Claw’s grudge against the brown flyer, having just almost gone through the same experience himself with this feathered freak of nature. Screech would have to postpone his errand of retrieving the brown flyer, but surely Red Claw would empathize with his desire for revenge against his own winged assailant, especially with an opportunity to achieve it imminently at his clawtips.
Up in the tree, Pangaea saw Screech staring daggers at himóeyes bloodshot; moist with pain-induced tearsóand knew that he was in trouble.
“Ooh boy,” he muttered, “Now I’ve done it...”
Uttering the high-pitched scream of fury that gave him his name, Screech leapt at the red glider in the tree. Pangaea barely had time to leap to an adjacent branch before the outraged fast biter slammed into his tree, his weight causing the relatively slender trunk to bend.
Seeing that the glider had moved to a different tree, Screech roared again, and lunged a second time.
Climbing for his life, Pangaea scrambled to the crown of the tree, the outraged fast biter screaming and snapping at his heels as he attempted to follow. Once at the top, Pangaea quickly determined which way the wind was blowing; turning in that direction, he spread his wings to catch it, knowing that if he was going to escape this irate sharptooth, it would have to be by air.
Just before he took flight, Pangaea reflected on the utter insanity of what he had just done to give Amy and Guido a chance to escape from Screech. “How many times am I going to break this record of ëscariest thing I’ve ever done’ today?” he wondered, as he sprung from the treetop into the night sky.
(OOC: This scene really only makes sense if you read my previous post as well. It basically continues directly off from it.
:)
