A figure limpped foreward to the strangly large tree. The tree reached to the hight of a sjyscraper, dwarfing the "person" that stumbbled to it. He held something akin to an egg in his hand.
He finnally faultered and fell to the ground. He had in the cousre of three days been kidnapped, brought to an alein planet, killed about 30 people, had become the host a strenge parasite that took the form of a thick thread of silver(and only someone with regenitve propertys like his could be a host, for it ate through all organic material it touchs), found what could be the greatest thing that he had ever found for his army, and after takeing his kiddnaper's ship, made his way back home.
The Thread caused him much pain, but his body fought against it, keeping it from multiplying out of hand. But the firtle air of the Treehouse stimulated it's growth, and now it was overwelming him. The pain was so intence that he fell into spasams, his claws flailing against the Treehouse's bark. For the first time in ages, he cryed. He was in so much pain, and he was so close to being home, but now he watched as the Thread began to devower his chest, expaneding slowly. And now, if help didn't show up soon, he'll be dead and the Thread will burrow into the ground, festering under the Treehouse and eventally the great Tree will wither and die, leaving the others homeless. What a fool he was, comeing back with this thing! All worth for nouthing. The others never heard of this thing, let alone how to kill it! They wouldn't know to use fire or some form of freezing agent! Now the Treehouse was doom. He cryed for him, his friends, the lose of the Treehouse, and he even cryed for his long-standing enemies.
Moltenfeild luckly heard the claws' scrabbling and his pained and mornful howls and rushed outside, ice sword in hand. He did not need derections when he saw his master's chest. He quickly slashed at the strands of Thread, careful not to hurt his master. It turned to black dust with the ice swords chill.
****
He sat alone, sending Moltenfeild away so that he could ponder. Katls stared at the fireplace, a golden egg sitting in a mound of sand nearby it. He glanced down at the vile in his hand, holding a rather small strand of Thread. The contents of the egg and the Thread had much genectic potental for his army...
But until the egg hatched, he was going to celebrate his return home.