Part 1, if you missed it. And Part 2. And Part 3. And Part 4. And Part 5. And Part 6. And Part 7. And Part 8. And Part 9.
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First came the nostrils, small, fleshy and pink, and then clear, stubby whiskers caught the light around the long rest of the nose, which twitched and shifted. Long, though, was relative, the whole thing was about the size of an undersized silverfish.
“That?” said Stumpy. “That thing changed all of evolution?”
The creature paused, tilting its head, its eyes like shiny black seeds. Up it reared on its hind feet, and there it stood, completely still.
“Technically you did this time,” Terry said. “Or last time. Or some time. One of the times.”
Not far from it, little round drops of Stumpy’s blood were sinking into the dirt, but not fast enough. The tiny nose was quivering in that direction, the mouth open, full of small but sharp teeth.
Stumpy shifted from foot to foot, willing herself to think of something.
“Stumpy,” came Edgar’s voice again, from everywhere and nowhere at all, “I’m looking at Chitroutgo and the only thing that’s changing are the specials. What are you doing there? Do you not get it? If you don’t fix this, you are going to have not existed at all.”
“He sounds serious,” said Terry, slowly chewing half of something that almost looked like a tree.
The little furry creature shifted its head the other way and plopped back down to all fours. Snout to the ground, it snuffled, rather indelicately for a thing of that size.
It’s tough for all of time of space to rest on the shoulders of anyone, but Stumpy’s sloping shoulders certainly weren’t designed for the weight of it all. Every second she hesitated, the animal got closer to her blood droplets, and even though he wasn’t speaking she could feel Edgar breathing.
Above her, Terry munched away, raining little bits of dirt and green down on her and the egg, which, of all times to do so, was now just sitting there, quietly, much like an egg.
The ridiculously tiny and nondescript critter that had no business being the center of the history of the planet scruffled every closer to genetic doom, or gift, depending on how you look at it. Stumpy had run out of ideas, if such a thing was possible after not having any.
But then, for perhaps the first time in her life, and when it couldn’t come at a better moment, inspiration struck.
The egg.
Quick as she could, trying to race the small thing that could ruin the universe with a single sniff, Stumpy wobbled the egg between her feet toward the blood. Though it was tough to spot, she could see it, and as the egg got closer to the spots, they took on a light of their own, an odd kind of shimmer that didn’t match the angle of the sun.
Almost in a V, the animal came from the one side and Stumpy the other, the point right in front of the first spot of blood. It was faster than Stumpy, much faster, and it was getting closer.
Stumpy couldn’t jump, not with the egg, and there was nothing to slide on. Now the creature was nearly, nearly on top of the first droplet, its nose in the dirt.
With a new gear she didn’t know she had, Stumpy pushed onward, the blood starting to lift from the soil the closer she got with the egg. Inches upon inches, she went, rolling and rolling.
Still the little animal explored, not quite at the blood, not noticing as it unsunk itself from the ground.
Stumpy was nearly, nearly there. The drop closet to her was completely out of the dirt, hovering millimeters above the ground, its surface undulating color.
It would be a photo finish if such things as photos and finishes had been invented yet. But now, almost at them, the egg started to hum, a low, even sound, and the droplets of blood grew longer, thinner, at the ends closest.
As though pulled by a siren song, each tiny speck of blood curled toward the egg in long red streaks, the egg absorbing them as Stumpy went.
The creature cocked its head as the hum grew, and again raised onto its back legs. Then, with a start, it took off in Stumpy’s direction, leaping right through her and diving for cover.
Meanwhile, as she rolled it, the egg sucked up all the blood, all of it swirling into it like watery red smoke.
“Is that it?” Stumpy asked the air, which is where she approximated Edgar to be. “Did I do it?”
“Well…” was all he said.
TO BE CONTINUED…
A Bit to Read 
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