On the Spot! Let's see what we can come up with. Remember, no editing.
The wind blew low and quiet as if it whispered a bad secret. Oddball cringed as his footsteps crunched the grass. The sound seemed so loud in this quiet world. There was nothing but tall dead grass and gray clouded sky.
He didn't dare call for Muddhed. The guy just wandered off by himself. He hated Oddball. They could hardly stand one in minute in each others presence without arguing or Muddhed threatening his life. Muddhed was fine. By himself. Wherever he went.
In a land supposedly full of cannibals.
They hadn't seen anyone. Not a single living thing. So it was all just rumors after all.
But something told Oddball otherwise. Maybe it was the bad secret the wind hissed to the grass.
From a distant he spotted a hill. It was just large enough to be classified as a hill and not a small mound of dirt. But it was different than the rest of this flatland. And on top. That was a tree. A living tree.
Oddball moved the strap of his postal traveler bag and headed for the hill. The closer he came the faster he walked. Somehow that tree seemed to be some hope in this empty land. He just wanted to stand under it. Some kind of land marker. Maybe from the hill he could see Muddhed. How did one just disappear in a flatland anyways?
Oddball kept himself from running up the hill. He looked around. Grass stretched out until the sky met the ground. A few trees. But only a few. And not a single breathing being. Maybe that was good.
Oddball leaned on the trunk. Muddhed was fine. He really was. A big guy like him could look out for himself. Pull his weight around and flex his muscles and anyone would run for their life. Yeah, he was fine.
But maybe he should try looking for him. He looked at his feet and kicked at something in the dirt. Sure Muddhed and him didn't get along, and the guy wanted to kill him. But Jaykin had made them partners on this escapade. And it would be the right thing to do. Especially considering the circumstances.
Wait. What was in the dirt? Oddball moved the grass away with his feet.
Bones. Spine bones. A leg bone. Dry, dirt-
A chill shot up his back. It was just the remains of something dead. Something dead couldn't hurt him like something living could.
But what if whatever caused it's death came back?
Don't jump to conclusions. It could've just been sick or something. Or. . .
Oddball had to keep himself from running down the other side of the hill.
On the Spot will be open for a week. Have fun!