Chimera Tunnels (3)

Cyril stared with swollen eyes at the strange tribal dance (?) going on in front of him.

Child-sized figures with brilliantly colored wings were dancing around a large central bonfire, completely drunk, while spit-roasting several human, the foxrabbit beasts he had seen before, and other monster corpses that he didn't recognize.

The pixies, he had decided to call them that, since they looked like Tinkerbells' larger, more cannibalistic cousins, had flown him along with others to a grove within the large forest, which was apparently their home base.

Crude tents made of leaves and twigs were spread out on the cleared ground or on the large trees.

To one side, both humans and beasts were tied against trees or locked up in wooden cages, while in the center was a large bonfire that glowed with a green light.

A tall seat made of blue wooden material was placed near the bonfire, and the largest pixie Cyril had seen so far sat on it.

He had sharp, almost cat-like features, and his long, untamed green hair looked like ferns.

His crystalline Sunflower yellow wings were spread widely, catching the firelight and shimmering like gemstones. With one hand, he groped a smaller female-looking pixie and held a large wooden mug with the other while watching the festivities going on below him.

Singing, dancing, brawling, and other cruder acts were taking place around the bonfire. Some participated, some watched, and others strolled around, occasionally going to harass the captured food.

As one of the pixies walking by casually swung a fist at Cyril's face, the earth beneath the pixie's foot subtly rose up, causing it to trip and fall flat on its face.

Kuaahahahahaha.

Stranger laughter rang out, and the embarrassed pixie leaped up, forced Cyril's head down, and began hitting it.

Doing his best to ignore the third beating he was receiving for the night, Cyril concentrated on controlling a slender blade of grass to grab the loose dart that had fallen from the pixie's quiver and a small wooden vial, sinking them into the ground and shifting some grass to conceal it.

When the pixie finally left, picking up the quiver and staggering away, Cyril let out a deep breath as he tried to move his body, which was covered in a cold sweat and completely sore.

Currently, he was tied up against a tree with both his hands and legs bound, and he was the only human among six captured ones that was presently awake.

He had been trying to use his landscaping, but it was exceedingly difficult to move large plants or even shift a large area of earth, so he had shifted his focus to become smaller.

Occasionally tripping a pixie and trying to steal the darts and antidote vials they carried. He had collected quite a few darts, but this was the only successful one.

Each time a pixie tripped, it would come and take its anger out on him, but thankfully, they hadn't tried to stick him with any more darts. He was just continually liberated of his clothing, leaving him in only boxers and a tight undershirt.

As Cyril continued looking around, an old-looking pixie with shriveled wings and a potbelly overhanging his leaf loincloth staggered over with a wooden mug in one hand and a sharp-looking wooden needle in the other.

"Garfsdbesssss."

It spoke in the same giberrish before stabbing the thorn into every captured human prisoner, licking the needle after each one.

When he stood in front of Cyril, the same thorn was carelessly stabbed into his thigh, and immediately he licked the blood off before opening a vial and swallowing it down.

Then, nodding happily, he staggered away before shouting at the Yellow haired pixie sitting on the high chair.

From what Cyril could gather, it meant that 'they would be ready by the morning.'

By the way they licked their lips while staring in this direction, he assumed, he was part of the 'they' and they wanted to toxins to clear from the body before consuming them.

Then the pixies continued their celebration, dancing and drinking wildly before they began tearing into the 'meat'.

Cyril had no plans to be included in that 'they'.

Sincerely hoping he didn't catch a strange disease by sharing a wooden needle with other people, he began phase 2 of the escape plan.

Dropping his head to his lap, he used the grass to raise the wooden vial up, first biting off the stopper and spitting it out, then putting the whole vial in his mouth and tilting back, letting the liquid trickle into his throat.

As he felt his limbs begin to regain movement, he spat the vial out, moving the earth to bury it before patting the ground while thinking of his pen.

After a few seconds, it appeared in his hand, and planting it in the ground, he began sawing at the bindings on his wrist, stopping every few seconds when a pixie glanced his way.

"Pstttt, hey."

A whisper came from the side, but Cyril ignored it and focused on freeing himself first.

"Young man with the white hair. I'm talking to you. Hey."

He continued ignoring the person hoping they would get a hint.

"If you don't answer me, I'll scream as soon as you try to leave."

Sigh.

"What do you want?"

Cyril turned to look at the man tied to the tree a couple of feet away from him.

A handsome, clean-shaven face with slight stubble, curly dark brown hair, and large dark brown eyes. It was a face of a man in his late twenties to early thirties.

Instead of being stripped down to his underclothes like everyone else, the man was wearing a full bodysuit that only exposed his bare feet.

"What are you planning on doing?"

At the stupid question, Cyril stared at him in contempt, sincerely wishing for lightning to strike him mute, before continuing to saw at the ropes binding his hands with a pen.

Each time his wrist twisted, he could feel the fibers ripping and his wrists getting looser.

"Should I start screaming? Call them over?" the man's amused voice whispered again.

"If you're going to do it, just do it or say what you want."

"Should I scream? Ahem ahem," the man began clearing his throat.

Cyril stared at the man through his swollen eyes in annoyance.

Scream, don't scream. Why are you bothering me about it?

Seeing the man continue to smile but not say anything, Cyril looked away and continued sawing at his wrist bindings until they were almost loose.

Then he settled in to watch the pixies, stuffing their faces, drinking themselves drunk, noting who had quivers, who had vials, who had taken his clothes, and in which direction they went.

Then a quiet voice sounded out.

"When you try to escape, release me too."

"Naturally." Cyril was quick to respond.

He planned on putting as many pixies to sleep as he could with their own dart, and releasing as many people and beasts as he could to cover his tracks.

Since his map had updated as he was being flown around, he had a general idea of which direction he wanted to try heading toward.

He just needed these damn things to fall asleep.

As the silence stretched out, an annoying voice spoke out.

"And take me with you."

"Rejected." 

Cyril immediately shook his head.

"Why?"

"Why would I? You seem to be able to move. And I could have sworn it was a blonde woman here earlier. Where did you come from?"

Cyril looked the man up and down again, noticing that his smile had disappeared.

While he was being dragged in, his eyes had been cracked the slightest bit, so he had definitely seen prisoners that he was carried past.

He didn't remember seeing this man, but when he "woke up", there he was.

He definitely didn't plan on saying anything before, but since the guy wanted to mess around with him, two could play at that game.

"I'm a bit curious. Why are you pretending to be tied up? I definitely saw you stretching earlier. Also, how did you change your clothes, and why are you sticking around?"

As the man continued to stare at him, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, Cyril curled his lips up in a faint smile before looking away.

"Well. Pretend I didn't say anything since I'm not really interested in your story. I'd simply appreciate it if you didn't interfere with my escape or try to kill me later. Someone threatened to bring me back as an undead, and it sounds pretty unpleasant, so I'd like to avoid that."