Continued from Part I.
“Trouble?” he said. “What do you mean, trouble? I just foraged some wood, there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re tricking me.”
She shook her head, both to disagree and disrupt the fearful quivering that was beginning to surge upwards into her neck. “Please,” she pleaded. “We have to do something. Perhaps take the dice back to woods?”
“It’s nine o’clock, it’s dark outside,” he said. “We’re not going to traipse around…”
He broke off. Over on the workbench, the cup of tea she had brought him was fizzling, popping, boiling and bubbling. Then a low growl emanated from the doorway, and they stood, rooted in fear, as a large lion with sickly green fur plodded heavily into the workshop.
Big, round brown eyes searched their faces, before settling on the dice that lay where they had fallen. The lion bared its teeth, letting saliva drip onto the floor, then roared.
They felt their skin constrict, tighten around their bones and then pull inwards. They cried out as searing pain shot through compressing muscles, joints scraped and twisted, nerves sizzled and scorched. Their bodies were pulled inwards and they shrank, down and down, folding and collapsing and grinding in upon themselves. Dents appeared on all sides of their misshapen, shrunken bodies.
The lion came forward, knocked the dice off the workbench onto the floor where the victims lay. Together they saw their broken, contorted bodies were no larger than the dice.
To be continued…