The spear sags in the fazed and wounded hornet’s grip, and you take the opportunity to seize it and rip it out of her grip. It’s clanking and splintering its way downwards long after you’ve thrown it. The zil hoists herself away before you can grab her, too.
“You’ll tire eventually, land-stealer!” she cries, as she pulls frenetically at her rope, reeling her bobbing abdomen and full, bare buttocks away from you.
“You’ll tire eventually, land-stealer!” she cries, as she pulls frenetically at her rope, reeling her bobbing abdomen and full, bare buttocks away from you.