We took several minutes to catch our breaths as we examined the creatures. They were unfortunate looking beasts, mottled in glaring yellows and bruise-browns, with uneven tufts of greasy hair patchworking their bared bodies. One of them was still squirming and making small sounds. I felt the others drift closer as I went over to stand over it.
Small dark eyes peered out from under a heavy brow at me as it writhed in agony. It was gutshot, and likely the poisons and acids from its stomach and intestines would be causing new levels of pain before it finally bled to death. It's eyes met mine, and it bared formidable fangs at me in a snarl of defiance, and it whined an ugly sound of hate and fear. I stared back at it as I dropped the shells from my revolver, replacing them one by one with practiced ease. Then I lifted the gun, and splattered its head across the pavement.
Chasity, her voice tight with nerves spoke as I reloaded that expended bullet, and the other gun.
"I managed to wing one, as they were fleeing," she said. "We've got a trail to follow."
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