Part of the false signal panic-breathe also came from hearing the antelope-bears – Saan could not believe she was internally using Nesembraci’s absurd nickname for them – growing louder alongside their banging. They nipped and growled and snarled like long-caged hunting dogs being teased by the sight of deer.
The trio had finally wrapped the strings of the filament armor-like fabric all over the loom-coil circle Saan put together, then began to place it in front of the only way in, between the first and second spools and lined up with the wall past the opening so it stayed in place. She was actually standing on that second spool, keeping her balance as she held the web up straight so the others could tie long strands from it to tool hooks on either side of the door. When the securing lines were good and taut, a series of howls vibrated the floor and gave Saan goose bumps again. They were out of time.
The next massive, thumping attack on the door split it open in the middle, the sound of cracking wood and groaning metal filling Saan’s ears, and she had to turn her face to avoid splinters flying fast at her. The string-filled web in front of her caught a lot of the wood shards, but several fragments got through. Most hit her protected torso, but a single long splinter glanced off her cheek. Thanks to adrenaline Saan barely felt pain from whatever small gash the splinter made, but sensed a drop of warm blood running down from cheek to side of chin and small sting in her calf from forcing herself to stay standing as straight up as she could to hold the coil-web. The metal bar securing the door was bent in place and marginally loosened from the rungs that held it.
“Saan!” exclaimed Nes.
“Just get back!” Saan-Hu demanded.
As soon as she gave her order, another big hit struck the door, split it down the middle to about the width of a hand, and hurled the metal bar into the room with dangerous speed. The bar flew to the side near Nes and he ducked in time to avoid it. Saan lost her focus thanks to the mayhem and fell, landing on her rear close to Trenna, the opposite side of the spools as Nes. While she tried to ignore the new, more-intense-than-a-splinter pain, she was also looking at the palm-wide split in the entryway and saw one of the fasshim moving back to strike again. It lowered its head so those powerful horns could do their work, huffed twice, and lunged forward, stomping heavily on the stone floor. It struck the door with enough force that Saan couldn’t help but think of the damage it would cause to be similarly hit, the thunderous bash ringing in as the crack was made wider, wood groaning in complaint.
When Saan stood up with Trenna’s help, she saw that more of the animals were visible now. Having their next meal this close riled them all up, and three of them started taking turns ramming the door. The cacophony was an immense, irregular drum beat combined with breaking wood, hoof stomps, and the occasional angry animal huff. Saan ran toward the wall opposite the door, the others behind her. A final hard slam against the entrance made her and Trenna stumble more than they should have, their nerves frayed. When Saan looked back to the door, it was a wrecked mess, off its three hinges, and falling into the hallway. The fasshim back away and let the thing fall, then were immediately fighting each other to be the first inside.
They growled, pushed, butted, argued, and finally one of them was able shove his way forward, got past the short mini-foyer, and got a hoof onto the first spool. The creature slipped, unable to climb the rounded object. Angry, it tried again, jumping for a better angle. That turned out to be a huge mistake, as it slipped once more, and this time the momentum it created by jumping worked against it. When its hoof – why did a seemingly predatory variation of the fasshim still have hooves rather than paws? – skidded off the spool and hit the ground at an awkward angle, the weight of the creature landing atop its own leg made a femur snap like a twig. Saan winced at the same time Trenna gasped and Nes exhaled audibly in shock, the creature’s bone sticking jaggedly out the side of the injured leg, blood and meat pulled out to meet open air.
The wounded creature mewled loudly, its pain evident and heart-wrenching despite the fact that it was trying to kill them. The other animals did not care at all. Instead, one used the broken-legged fasshim’s body to try and climb up onto the first spool, clumsily clambering onto fur and muscle. It worked. The second, clever one finally got inside, past the threshold, but it had nowhere else to go. The coil web was directly in its path, leaving nowhere near enough space for the big thing to slip by. Saan figured the animals would try brute force when caught, and she was right. The one that was trapped tried to push past the coil and filament web, moving slowly, using its head to try and shove the coil far enough to break it away.
Yet again, hooves were too clumsy on the rounded spool, and it slipped like the one that tried to enter first. This second fasshim fell forward, its horns snagged on the coil web, something it seemed to be trying to avoid, and the surprised animal could not compensate. The web trap sagged down but stayed more or less in place thanks to the lines of thread knotted tightly onto the tool hooks on either side of the doorway. The ensnared animal, its front legs finding no purchase as its hind ones tried pathetically to make up for that, mewled in annoyance and frustration. Any attempt to right itself only threw it more off kilter. After a third time of trying to regain its footing, its hind legs skidded out from under it like they were on ice. The back half of the animal’s body went down, but it’s head got twisted into the web it tried to push, held in place by tangled-up horns, and left its front half upright. The muscles in its neck strained visibly, all four legs twitched and bucked pointlessly, and it breath-caughed heavily in its terrified state.
A third fasshim got inside, using the broken-legged one, which had stopped whimpering and was either dead or unconscious, as a stepping stone. Next, it used the wrapped-up one like a crutch to keep from slipping – these things were pitiless to each other. The one with its horns trapped in the web continued its pained wailing, not moving much at all anymore, and the third stood very still, not making the former’s fatal mistake of trying to go too far on the rounded tops of the spools. Despite the dire circumstances of having these enemies so close and no real way out, Saan couldn’t help but think that for such robust-looking animals, they seemed fragile.
Limited space had the third fasshim hemmed in after it was already on the spools. If it tried to go left or right, there was not enough space to hop down into the sewing room without tripping and maybe injuring itself. Forward was the coil web, still a barrier despite one of those animals being caught up in it. So, it simply growled in anger. The remaining two behind it in the hallway did the same, occasionally adding in some shuffling. Then, they stopped making noise altogether, at the same time, and looked around. The difference in sound was shiver-inducing, and the new quiet was probably worse than the growls.
“What... What are they doing?” asked Trenna nervously. “Why are they being quiet?”
“I do not understand, either,” Saan said, getting more disturbed every second.
The unhurt fasshim on the spool was actually examining the room, calmly, specifically taking in the coil web where another of its kind was trapped. It then turned its head and yelped a few times at the ones that waited patiently outside, the sounds controlled, each small bark-screech different than the last. The two outside chuffed and sniffed in return, then, together, began to push at the first spool with their horned heads. If they were trying to push the spools in to make space to walk, it wouldn’t work; those objects were very heavy and their positions worked to make them impossible to move all at once. At best they’d make a little space, but not enough for any one of the hulking creatures to safely get on solid ground in the room what with the coil web blocking the sides by being well-aligned with the wall past the entry space.
The fasshim that yelped at the ones outside, occasionally swerving to stay balanced, looked at the places where Nes and Trenna tied the strings to tool hooks, holding its black eyes on each line for too long of a moment. The pushing from the outside wasn’t doing much, but that minimum movement of the spool
s was forcing the already taut strings to almost sing in protest. The thread was strained, but the material was strong, the stuff like thin steel wrapped on itself as if it was nylon. The fasshim on top of the spool huffed twice, which sounded like it somehow laughed at Saan’s thoughts of how strong the fabric was, before stepping to the side very slowly, near one of the strings, making sure to keep its balance. It huffed again, and started to bite at one side of the overly taut lines.
“Oh, fuck me,” Nes exclaimed.
“No, it will probably just eat you,” Saan said.
She regretted jokingly responding to Nes when she saw a hair-thin piece of the tight, wrapped string snap away after being chewed on. It wouldn’t take long for the rest of the line to completely break away, and Saan could do anything except watch it happen.