Naekit crouched to his knees, tears welling in his eyes, the beast’s enormous jaws missed him, but they grazed his bundle of sleeping bolts. They scattered about the ground making quite a mess. He would be very annoyed about this if he wasn’t about to die.

The Root Beast slid across the snow, and effortlessly righted itself for another strike. It lowered its head so that its razored maw was level with Naekit’s head. This time, it wouldn’t miss. 

Naekit reached a shaking hand out for one of the sleeping bolts in the snow, they were his only chance, and he was running out of them.

The Root Beast, somehow hearing the snow get brushed aside by Naekit’s little fingers, or maybe even seeing Naekit reaching for the bolt, leapt forward and swiped at Naekit’s arm with a reaching claw. A splash of pink blood painted the cold white snow.

Naekit had often felt embarrassed by his small stature, but perhaps tonight his diminutive size was a blessing. Perhaps the Root Beast had never hunted something so small. Perhaps it was simply playing with its food.

Naekit, tears no longer welling in his eyes and instead streaming from them, grabbed at his left arm; one of the beast’s teeth had only scratched at him. It was a deep wound, but it would heal if he lived through this. For now, it hurt worse than anything he’d felt before. He rolled over to his side; the beast was circling him. He propped himself up with his sturdy right arm; the rhythmic hollow thumping was so loud he could feel his skull rattling.

Overwhelmed with pain and fear, Naekit made a fist with his left hand. Underneath the heavy blanket of pain, he could faintly feel his pink blood slick between his little fingers. But he also felt something else. A sleeping thunder bolt. He must have managed to grab it after all!

The call of the Root Beast bellowed through the trees, it reared its head and opened its mouth and let out an even louder and more guttural thumping sound, like a thousand hands on a drum. This was it. The Root Beast was going for the kill. Naekit struggled to raise his arm.

His left arm stung as it lifted into the cool air, the pink blood lazily trickled down to his cloak. He clutched a flat stone in his right hand as tightly as he could. Naekit thought about the sound of a river. He thought about telling the story of how he bested a Root Beast to everyone he would meet. He thought about the crimson of the leaves when the season changed. He thought about wearing a scarlet cloak with golden trim and a matching hat, and how he would keep a child safe with the knife he wore on the belt under the cloak. He thought about the man who clothed and named him and how he could never see him again. 

The Root Beast was upon him, its jaw opening around his head. 

Naekit struck the sleeping lightning bolt to the stone as hard as how much he wanted to live. He felt the stone break in half.

There was no bolt of lightning that arced through the air. Nothing to hit the branches of the trees overhead. But there was a flash of light. Bright blue light, right down the Root Beast’s throat. The hollow thumping stopped. For the first time in his life, Naekit had woken up a sleeping lightning bolt, and he did it right before a Root Beast could eat him.

Plumes of black smoke belched from the beast’s undulating throat. Instead of a thumping, the sounds the Root Beast made were a high pitched whine while it clawed at the air. It reared up and trampled off into the woods, the smoke following behind it. Moments passed, and the only sound that could be heard was Naekit’s shallow panting.

He did it.

He woke up a sleeping lightning bolt.

He also met a Root Beast and lived, but right now that excited him a little bit less.

Naekit wrapped his arm in his cloak, and gingerly gathered the sleeping bolts to put them back in his bundle.