Crimson sally's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

Sally stood in the middle of the den and watched the six men. The peach shell rolled to a stop by Sally's hoof. The eggplant leaned out and blinked at the room. Sally kept the horn low. Six faces again. Sally would not strike until Sally knew. "Watch them," Sally said to the eggplant. "Tell me what you see." The eggplant crossed its thin arms and studied the couches. One man dropped his cards and stared at Sally. He did not scream. He grabbed a can and threw it at the peach shell. The can cracked the leaves. The eggplant yelped and pulled inside. "Get that thing out," the man said. He kicked the shell across the floor. It skidded under the pool table and squealed. Sally's ears went flat. The boss had kicked the small creature too. That kick had told Sally the truth. Now this man had done the same. But Sally waited. One cruel man was not six. A second man laughed and stood. He grabbed a cue stick and swung it at the shell like a bat. The eggplant screamed. A third man cheered him on. "Again," he said. "Hit it again." Sally counted. Three of them laughed and hurt the small thing. But two others did not move. They sat on the couch and looked sick. One reached toward the shell, then pulled his hand back, afraid. The sixth man stood by the wall. He said nothing. He watched the door, not Sally. The eggplant crawled out from under the table, leaves torn, one arm bent. It climbed to Sally's hoof and pointed. "Those three," it said. Its voice shook. "They fired the workers. They laughed then too. The others just followed." Now Sally knew. Not all six. Three. The truth had shown itself in how they treated the weak. The men who kicked and swung were the ones the eggplant named. Sally moved. The horn came down on the first man, the one who threw the can. He fell. Sally ate him where he lay. The second man swung his cue stick at Sally's flank. The stick snapped on Sally's hide. Sally caught him against the wall and ended him. The third tried to run for the door. Sally was faster. Sally took him before he reached the frame. The last three pressed into the corner. The two sick ones held up their hands. The quiet one by the wall did not fight. Sally stopped, blood on the horn, and looked at them. They had not hurt the small creature. They had not laughed. "Go," Sally said. They ran. The eggplant limped up the peach shell and pulled the broken leaves shut. Sally licked the horn clean. The test had worked. Cruelty to the weak marked the guilty, every time. But one of the three who fled had a fresh bruise on his jaw, and a name he had whispered to the quiet man before he ran.