by Heather McDougal
They were moving toward her quite quickly, and she stopped, watching. Something was wrong; there were too many of them.
They were no longer yelling, or even talking, but moved down the hill with a curiously desperate stride, their arms flung up as they slipped and slid in the leaves, their anoraks glaring harshly in the monochrome of the forest. There were people behind them, large shapes in odd colors, moving more carefully but just as swiftly.
Eugenia felt a strange contraction in her stomach, and moved behind a small stand of trees to watch. The group of tourists slithered to the bottom of the ravine and began scrabbling to climb up the other side. Behind them, curiously threatening, came a group of other people: very large, broadly-built people with blurry faces, dressed in what looked like golf clothes. The Germans seemed to be terrified of them, and as they approached, neither slipping nor slithering, one of the young men began squealing a little as he clawed his way up the bank.
About the Author
Heather is a writer and lover of oddities. In 2007 she started the Cabinet of Wonders, a compendium of bizarre objects and interesting thoughts. A love of the Age of Reason makes her see science in the light of magic, and magic in the light of science. And over it all, wonder.