"'WARE! He's still armed!"
Birdie heard the shout, and quickened her efforts. She was scrambling among the leaf-litter on the other side of the fire, searching for the pack she had hidden there. It contained everything she owned in the world. "Where is it? Where is it" she muttered to herself, looking fearfully over her shoulder at the the running, cursing, battling campers.
Her hand landed on a buried strap, and she pulled it from it's hiding place with a "whoosh" of relief. Now for it! Birdie scrambled to her feet and took off running.
And ran smack into a mountain of grey flesh, smelling of hay and musk. The creature let out an offended squeal at the impact. Birdie, running full tilt, had rammed her head hard into the shoulder bone of the unwielding, massive creature.
She pitched over backward, landing flat on her back, and knew no more.
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