Poison

“Think maybe we should call them ‘bloody foam eggs’?” someone replied.
“I’ve never seen ’em before either. They’re bubbles, so they’ve gotta burst
sometime. When they do, shut down your senses. Just a second,” the voice
added. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Want me to take a bite out of
one?”
“That would be nice.”

“Hey, don’t be so damn casual about it. This concerns you, too.” The
indignation of its tone was further colored by swirls of weirdness that knew
no depths. “Hey! Come and get us!” the voice shouted.

At some point, D had taken his left hand from his side and turned the palm
toward one of his airborne foes. The wind roared. And with that, one of the
mysterious blood bubbles quivered and was drawn toward D’s hand. As its
rounded contour touched the Hunter’s palm, it stretched thinner, as if it was
being drawn through a hole, and the other extreme of the bubble swelled
grossly. The suction didn’t end there. The swollen portion didn’t pop, but
appeared to be struggling even as its shape continued to change. In no time
it shrank, displaying the sort of fear a drowning creature does, before it sank
completely into the palm of D’s hand.

“Wow! Pretty darned tasty,” a voice said cheerily, but a second later, it
became a cry of pain the likes of which the world rarely heard.

“Rather strong poison?” D inquired calmly.
“This stuff.. . it’s pretty damn lethal. . . Don’t think even I could take a
second one . . . Better fall back.”

3 - 5