Gregor started to run, then when everyone had overtaken him he slowed to a stop. He watched the others run off without him for a moment, then ducked off the path into the shadow of the treeline and hunkered down behind one of the larger trees, cross-legged.

They had been running all day. They were malnourished from the trip. They hadn't had anything to drink since last night and his throat burned. The sweet breath of freedom could only sustain a man for so long. Truth was, Gregor was exhausted. They were outrunning thew slavers so far, but he knew that was only because of the golden headstart they had on them. That didn't exist here. They wouldn't e able to outrun these native. That was one reason he had ducked down here.

The other is that they had injured the boy. That, he decided, was unacceptable.

He held up the length of chain that had been pulled off of Brinley's ankle. He hadn't had any time to construct a proper fetish out of it, but the exhaustion and the terror were putting him into a semi-altered state and he knew now that there were snakes on the island. He closed his eyes, lowed his breathing, and tried to clear his mind even as he heard the pounding of feet on the wooden bridge.

He forced every outgoing breath out through his teeth and began to gently sway back and forth. He shook the chain gently, a rattling coming from it. He focused on that, and the sound of his breathing. He alternated the sounds, breathing then shaking then breathing than shaking.

[i]Ssssss, rattle, Sssssss, rattle, Ssssss, rattle....[/i]

The sound seemed louder than what was natural. They echoed far away, carried across the island on a fetid, rotten wind. All around heads perked up, then slithered as one out of trees, bushes, and dens deep under the ground. Gregor felt something cold and smooth slide against his leg, and smiled. 

Snakes began streaming out of the jungle, right into the path of the oncoming native warriors.