rotten, crumbling at the edges, useless as a weapon. He grabs another. Better. Heavy. He could swing it once, maybe twice, before it broke.
The rustling continues. Low to the ground. Something small, then. Or something pretending to be small.
"Hey." His voice comes out cracked, barely a sound. He tries again. "Get out of here."
The bushes twitch. He raises the branch.
And then a shape emerges. Low, four-legged, moving with a strange
