By Tim Sevenhuysen
Posted May 22, 2012
Support the author by liking it on Facebook!
The yetis led them down the mountainside, making pathways with their paws when the snow became too deep for the humans. Once, their shaggy ears perked up, and they grabbed the humans to their chests and bellyflopped into a deep snowdrift, seconds before one of Dunter’s jets streaked overhead.
Tic came up spluttering. “What was that!?”
The yetis shrugged. “Our fur camouflages us. If they see you, they will soon attack. But now they will assume you have taken your ship and flown away.”
“Well… Good plan, I guess,” admitted Tic. “But did you have to break our ribs doing it?”
Soon a huddle of gigantic igloos appeared on the horizon. The yetis bustled them inside one and hauled open a heavy wooden hatch in the floor. A broad staircase descended into the ground.
The stairs led into expansive caves, filled with a veritable yeti village. Booths providing a variety of services were built into the rock walls. Tic saw a market, a tavern, a smithy whose walls were hung with slingshots, and even a barbershop.
“Welcome to Yettison,” said one of the yetis.
They were ushered into a side cavern and seated at a tall stone table. Other yetis entered and sat, staring curiously and chatting amongst themselves.
Finally, a hunchbacked, limping old yeti with black fur entered, and the room fell still. It addressed the humans: “I am told you war with Dunter. How may we aid you?”
“Um,” said Tic. “Er, I guess, really, what we need is more information…”
“Knowledge?” said the old yeti, with a wide, shaggy, disconcerting grin. “How typically human. I will grant you my knowledge, but my wisdom, also, I offer to supplement it.”
“Uh,” said Tic. “Sure, why not?”
What does Tic ask about first?
Total Voters: 6
All content released under a Creative Commons license unless otherwise noted.