“What’s up?” Sam asked looking back at him.
“I don’t know.” Price muttered, searching the trees for something, “I just don’t feel right.”
Sam looked around, “Stop messing okay.”
Some birds flew up from a tree and Price relaxed, wondering if that was what he had sensed, “I’m probably just being paranoid.”
He was about to take a step again when his eyes widened. He pushed Sam into the undergrowth as a shot echoed in the alley way and sparks shot across the pavement. Price shoved Sam to the floor and he connected to the trees. They seemed to rustle and there was a moan as a branch broke and a figure fell to the floor, landing with a dull thud. With a turn it stood nimbly and even though they were concealed in the undergrowth, it was looking right at them. A gun clattered to the floor between them and Price looked from the grey skinned, long armed creature, to the weapon that was like none he had ever seen.
Price charged for the gun and his finger slipped to the panic button. Sam was behind him, but the creature was quicker. It dived on Price and swept him away with a powerful swing of his arm. Sam was braver than he had expected, and he grasped the creature’s arm just as it wrapped around the gun. The creature gave a primeval yell before jumping back. It stared down at the silhouette of Sam’s hand; his arm burnt by the freeze. Sam kicked the large gun away but squealed as the creature pulled from its belt, a long-curved blade.
Price was on his feet again and he charged, pulling for a root. Before one could break the surface, a boot caught him painfully in the stomach and the Murka slashed with its good arm to keep Sam away.
It turned again on Price, and Sam tried to kick out but the figure turned, caught his boot and span him to the floor. The knife was coming down for him before Sam could stop it, but a root snatched at the creature’s wrist. Price was pulling with all his might but the muscular arm of the Murka was slowly getting closer to Sam’s chest. Its numb, frozen arm grabbed at Sam’s neck and he tried desperately to breathe. In a last desperate measure, his hand went to the Murka’s face. Ice glistened on his fingers and the Murka screamed. The knife fell, grazing Sam’s cheek and the distraction allowed Price to pull the Murka away from him. Regaining itself, it span, grabbed the gun and smiled at them. More roots were bursting from the ground and Sam’s hands were sparkling with the ice that covered them.
With startling speed, two knives flew at Price and Sam and they ducked to avoid them. When they looked up, the Murka was charging away with a frightening turn of pace. They chased it as far as they could until it disappeared into a spinney at the end of a long field.
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