Harvesting a Harvester

The dark dirt of the forest floor had become mud and was slowly creeping up my ankle. It had already covered my foot.

“I see you.” My words were more mirth than warning.

The creeping mud stopped. I watched a large area of dirt around me ripple.

“Is that it? You’re not even going to try?” The mud retreated from my ankle, but held on to my toes.

2,572 words.

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