The air was flush with panic. The sound as sharp as lightning turned heads and sent feet shuffling. All of the wasteland animals understood the shape of the danger, and almost forgot about Galataea.
“Get out of the way, freak!” The little person rejoined the human torrent that passed around Galataea like a stone in a stream.
Peering over them, the giant spotted a figure in a hood sprinting from a glass cave. They did not run like the others; their urgency carried no consideration for those around. While the nuances might have been alien to Galataea they knew a predator when they saw one.
Bounding over the crowd, the nude person stepped over the heads of the metal carriers, often enticing honking roars as their feet landed. Some stopped to gawk at them, this person who was like them but not like them, as they closed the stretch between them the hunter.
“What the hell is that?”