Trilobiteback riding

“Wake up sloth!” Oliver opened his eyes as the salty water dripped down his face. He wasn’t a huge lover of being woken up by a splash of cold seawater, especially on the morning after his exile.

He frowned at the woman who shamelessly studied his damp face, holding a bucket with her muscular arm. So when she extended her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mabel,” Oliver wasn’t so pleased to do so. But the frantic jolts of the sand trilobite didn’t give him much option than accepting his savior’s hand.

“I’m Oliver, nice to meet you,” He replied.

“Come, hold on here,” Mabel pulled Oliver to her position on top of the trilobite and indicated him to hold on to the pickaxe.

Oliver was awed when he saw how Mabel wielded a portion of the trilobite’s nerve with her pickaxe.

“So, this little menace is your doing, kid?” Mabel asked, obliviously pointing at the trilobite.

“Sorta,” Oliver ashamedly replied.

“Well, consider yourself lucky,” Mabel excitedly said as she adjusted her grip on the pickaxe’s stick. “Cause today Imma teach you how to ride one!”

“Wait, no,” Oliver bewilderedly complained. “Just cut the ner…”

But before Oliver could finish his sentence, Mabel pulled the trilobite’s nerve up, and the trilobite started galloping to one of the cavern’s walls.

“Hold on tight!” Mabel instructed. “Or you'll get stuck in the sand.”

“What?!” Oliver shouted as the trilobite charged against the wall.

Oliver barely managed to close his eyes before the sand started giving him a premium exfoliation.

“Gahhh!” Oliver spat out the sand after they broke through the wall, the wind blowing the sand away from his face as they pranced down a tunnel.

“What are we doing?!” Oliver questioned with sand still in his mouth.

“My father used to tell me there were very few things better than riding,” Mabel exclaimed, closing her eyes against the breeze, extending her left arm, and lifting her right leg, forming a T pose. “Wooo!”

Her stability, strength, and regal stance on top of the trilobite appeared mismatched with her gray hair and wrinkled skin. She exuded the energy of a young woman.

Oliver unconsciously admired her for a few seconds before a grain of sand entered his eye.

“KeyWee, what’s going on!” Oliver called out.

“I love riding with Mabel!” KeyWee responded delighted. “Wheeeee!”

“Now it’s your turn, kid,” Mabel said returning to her regular riding posture. She looked at Oliver’s face of atonement and added, “You don’t have to do the pose! Just try riding the trilobite.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Oliver replied. “Let’s just cut the nerve.”

“You basically got a day off, have a little fun,” Mabel complained. “Listen, it’s very easy, you just have to pull the nerve and move it where you want to go. Like this.”

Mabel twisted the nerve and Oliver got another sand premium facial exfoliation.

“Gahhh!” Oliver coughed another handful of sand as they entered another tunnel.

“I’m going to pass,” Oliver said.

“Well, boring people better get down Sparkletoes!” Mabel argued.

Oliver looked at the running path beneath them.

“I don’t want to!” He replied. “And it’s my trilobite, I created it. Just cut the nerve!”

“Well, you definitely don’t deserve Sparkletoes!” Mabel shoted.

“Trilobites didn’t even have toes!” Oliver responded. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

“Sparkletoes does!” Mabel said, extending her hand to keep Oliver away as he decidedly took his pickaxe off his back. They fought for control, Sparkletoes felt its reins going loose for a second and rolled on the ground, leaving its riders behind.

"Nooo! Sparkletoes!" Mabel wailed as she extended her hand to the fleeing mass of sand and turned to face Oliver. "Look what you just did!"

"Me!" Oliver replied incredulously. "You were the one playing Kentucky Derby!"

"Oh please! They didn’t use to do anything alike there," Mabel sighed patting off the sand of her suit personalized with aluminum stars. “And, whether you like it or not, you were the one who made me lose control of Sparkletoes!”

“I was trying to do my job,” Oliver said, raising his hands. “Not like others.”

“Come on kid, look at yourself. Have some fun!” Mabel said. “And it’s just a C1, the ZH squad will figure it out without me!"

“What does she mean?! Look at myself?”Oliver wondered and subtly asked, "Keywee what's a C1?"

"A C1 is the lowest classification for a zkwich in the Windstail zkwich classification," KeyWee explained.

"If it's that easy why aren't they finished yet with it?" Oliver said, drawing the conversation away from himself, and looking at the roof. "And how did you split from them?"

"Sandy zkwichs are relatively easy to hunt but can be very laberynthical," Mabel explained. "Sparkletoes ambushed us near the nucleus and I couldn't stop myself from following it."

"Now you better sort out a way to get out of here," KeyWee ended.

They sighed, tired of discussing, and turned to face the bigger problem. They stood in a sand circle surrounded by sharp teeth the size of Mabel, ready to mince them.

“From what I can tell we're in one of the throats, here the zkwich blends anything from metal to rocks,” KeyWee explained. “We’re lucky that it’s not feeding now, though.”

"Thank you KeyWee informative as always," Mabel said sarcastically.

"You're welcome!" KeyWee enthusiastically responded.

Mabel rounded the sand circle, analyzing the terrain.

"There’s no way we can pass walking without getting cut," Mabel mumbled.

Oliver ran to a big bowled metal lid that was nearby.

"This shall do the work, right?" Oliver said.

“Not bad, newbie,” Mabel replied.

They dragged the lid closer to the edge, mounted it and Oliver pushed them into the field of teeth.

“Okay, we’re doing good,” Mabel said as they started moving forward with the help of two big wooden sticks.

Suddenly the teeth started moving and they heard how the metal started to thin beneath them.

"You know what Oliver, forget the sticks," Mabel said as she looked at what was left of her stick. Mabel’s mind began racing. "Let’s push the lid!"

The lid began to slide over the sea of teeth as they pushed one of the lid’s sides as if it were a sled.

“Come on, let’s do it faster,” Mabel urged, getting anxious from the drilling sounds beneath them.

“If you keep doing it out of sync,” KeyWee coached, “You’re going to be minced meat in less than a minute.”

"I'm already doing more than half of the work!" Oliver argued, looking at Mabel’s terrible technique.

"Because you're twice my size!" Mabel complained. "Talk less, push more!"

A pair of teeth started peeking from the center of the lid.

“Oh!” Oliver and Mabel looked at each other and understood that none of them wanted to be minced in the following moments.

“Follow me, okay,” Oliver urgently proposed, Mabel nodded.

“One, push!” The lid advanced but the hole in the center kept growing. They leaned forward to avoid it from getting stuck.

“Push!”

“Push!”

“Push!”

“Almost there!” KeyWee announced.

The bottom of the lid disappeared. In an acrobatic exchange, Oliver tilted what was left of the lid, caught Mabel from falling into the teeth and they ran on the lid as if it was a hamster wheel.

“We’re not gonna make it!” KeyWee lamented as the lid crumbled apart.

“Jump!” Oliver commanded as they impulsed from the last piece of the lid.