Jeff's ribs screamed on the third stride.
Each breath dragged across them like a rasp on green wood, and the pain sat low on the right side, where the branch had punched him during the jump. A cracked rib? Maybe a bruise.
He filed the question away since questions could wait until the lizard behind him stopped breathing.
Behind him, the Megalania crashed through a stand of young bamboo. Stalks snapped with sharp, wet pops, one after another then a string of firecrackers going off at a fiesta nobody wanted to attend.
"Ten meters," Jeff muttered.
"Keep it at ten,"
With that, he vaulted a mossy log that landed on the far side, and let his knees take the shock.
His left forearm throbbed under the old scar three days ago this same animal had opened that arm with one lazy swipe. Today it had a spear hole in its ribs, a gash in its belly, and a lump on its face the size of a coconut.
Welp, he can call it a fair trade, so far.
