Concrete Language

“Hey Sawyer, get over here!” Ed shouted, “It’s waking up, we need to give it more tranquilizer!” The rain was pouring outside on the island a couple miles offshore of Bahia Anasco. Pit pat pit pat pit pat, the rain went on and on. Sawyer trudged through the mud towards the giant metal crate. The crate. He hadn’t known about the “thing” until yesterday evening. He knew what was inside and wasn’t eager to get within a couple feet. But Ed kept shouting and slowly, reluctantly, Sawyer neared the crate. “You need to give it to him! My arms are too big!” Shouted Ed. Sawyer picked up the needle, inserted the fluid, and reached his arms through the bars. He had just pierced the raptor’s skin before it opened its eyes.

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