Through the grass they came. Like scintillating waves of separate winds, the horrible rat-things skittered forward. Extra sets of insectile legs gipped, twisted, tugged on the grass as the horde surged forth. Some rat-things bristled with so many extra limbs; they looked like stubby furred centipedes or scraggling and bent puffer fish.
Amadalia watched them from above, through the violet tinged glow that always stained her vision. The Candied One of Children’s Glee would be pleased enough with the battle this day. These land-bound vermin stood no chance against them.
With a great piping voice, Amadalia trilled the fairies’ war song. Long, delicate spears of sugar crystals rained from the sky, spilling foul-smelling blood on the dewy ground. Rolling rows of tiny, purple-shining women dove hurling their confectionary arsenal. Hunks of rock-candy spun from slings and shattered skulls. Still-burning caramel stuck fast and scalded away flesh.
The rat-things tossed their queer scarab-headed clubs into the sky with surprising accuracy and strength. Some of them burst into swarms of stinging wasps and terrible biting flies. Some of them leapt skyward on crickets’ legs and bore her sisters to the blood-puddled ground.
However, it was not long before the rat-things fled the field. The Candied One would mourn for dozens, but the Hidden Devourer lost hundreds. Amadalia sighed and surveyed the corpse strewn ground. Only the crows would be happy today. It was a great waste, she thought.
That was when the net wrapped around her, tangling in her wings. The rat-things drug her into a deep dark hole, giggling shrilly in glee. Rat-things care nothing about waste.