The Slaying of the War Crab
Junelie Anthony Velonta The twin moons, which rose anew from the Eastern Sea, reminded Uway that he had failed to fulfill his purpose five rice harvests ago, that he must return to do what he had not done—what he was not able to do. On the day that he faced the War Crab, he was a warrior. He rushed at his adversary armed with his spear and the courage of one that had bested many warriors and war-beasts alike. He had thought that he could have won.
Though it was armored and large, the Crab moved fast and its strikes swept everything around itself—felling trees, devastating homes, and crushing the beached boats underneath its weight. Uway moved faster. Leaping high above and ducking below in search of gaps in the Crab’s carapace, he stabbed at every crevice, every crack, every sign of weakness however small, until the Crab bled its blue blood over the sandy soil. Although many of his stabs found their mark, none were deep enough.
They battled from morning till twilight. Under the noon-light heat, Uway felt a soreness in his chest and the dryness of his lips. He moved slower. Jumped lower. Yet, he chose to ignore those and did again what he did hours before, but it was him whose cracks and crevices had begun to show. He lacked the speed to move out of the Crab’s strikes in time. The Crab’s spikes scraped him as he ducked. Its claws hammered too close to where Uway was. In his attempt to land after a jump, his knees buckled, twisting his joints and muscles. Still, he went on. But he did not make assaults anymore, for everything he did was to avert the Crab’s attacks. Read More