Without further warning, a HUGE beast threw itself from the cover of the underbrush at Argyyle. The thing was hairless, its skin smooth and tough looking. Cords of sinew stood out from its forlegs as it sprang, its scythe-like talons glinting in the light. Teeth as big around as his big toe, and as long as his hand grew from the things mouth. Argyyle took all of this in, taking a fraction of an instant, and fell backwards off the log. He curled himself into a backwards handspring, and pushed up, kicking the thing in the chest as it passed over him. The heels of his flight boots impacted, and he heard something crack, but it made no apparent effect on the thing. It twisted away from the kick, landing heavily. Not very agile, he thought, then, good. Argyyle leaped as high as he could as the thing as it rushed him, his martial training enabling him to reach hights unattainable by normal people. Argyyle landed on the thing, riding it, and reaching around its head, grabbed its fangs, pulling the hideous visage to one side as hard as he could. The thing reared up, more flexible than Argyyle had thought, and nearly dislodged him, tearing his side. A primal scream ripped itself from argyyles throat, one final savage burst of strength, and the thing screamed with him. Silence returned to the jungle.
Argyyle lay there, bleeding from his side where the thing had caught him in its wild bucking. He lay there panting a few moments, then reached to his side and probed the wounds. One felt as if it had scored the bone, but none had penetrated his ribcage. Good. Hed live. He ripped strips from his shirt and began searching for something to stop the bleeding. Moss grew profusely on the trees, so he tore some up, pressing it against the gashes. He wound the bandages as tight as he could, to hold the moss in place and hoped it would be enough.
As night fell, Argyyle wondered what he would do for food, when his eyes fell on the hideous carcass. He went to the remains of his flyer, searching for a piece sharp enough to serve as a temporary knife. He rummaged through the wreckage hopelessly, slicing his hands and arms in several places before finding what he was looking for. Approaching the creature with caution, he drew the knife across the hind leg, his makeshift knife barely notching the things hide. Not good enough. He moved one of the front paws, with those hideously sharp claws, and brought the metal down hard, chopping off a section of paw along with the claw he so desperately needed. After all, the thing was obviously a predator, and predators often hunted each other. The claw should be sharp enough to cut him something to eat. Argyyle held up the gristly trophy in the fading light, gripping it by the chunk of paw still attached, and began to hack away at the haunch once more, this time with considerably more success. Sitting in the blackness, Argyyle devoured the raw meat, almost gagging at the powerful odor. The smells of combat and spilled blood should be enough to keep away anything but scavengers, and his presence should keep away all but the most devoted of those.
He lay next to the partially butchered corpse, huddling against it for warmth. He would finish as best he could in the morning. His last thought as he shivered himself to sleep was of why his father hadnt come to rescue him.
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