The drahz driver was struggling with his charges. He shouted and sparked his whip, letting the violet energy crackle threateningly. The heavy-shouldered drahz blinked their beady black eyes and moved, hefting barrels in gray paws and placing them onto a cart. The driver shouted again; the drahz lifted the barrels back to the ground. The driver growled in frustration, but the mute behemoths didn't seem to understand what he wanted.
As I passed, I glanced up at the granite-hued visage of one of the drahz, and I swear I saw an amused twinkle in its eyes.
Then it was gone.
Tapson on Tales and Totalitarianism
8 hours ago