Vermin or Life?

The earth did not merely tremble; it split. A chasm, born of the careless stomp of a Giant named Korr, yawned open right next to a hidden human settlement. Through the fissure, Elara could see them: tiny, flickering lights, like panicked fireflies in the dark. Her heart, which was the size of a small cottage, hammered against her ribs. She saw a small group of them, no more than twenty, huddled on a crumbling shelf of rock that was slowly detaching from the main cliff face. If it fell, they would plummet into the abyss.

She could have ignored them. It was not her mistake. It was the way of the world now. But she couldn’t. Taking a deep breath that seemed to draw in all the valley’s air, Elara knelt. She moved with the painstaking care of a mother bird retrieving a fallen egg. Her immense fingers, each the size of a small boat, descended into the chasm. She heard their terrified shrieks, sounds like the high-pitched squeal of a rusty hinge, as her shadow fell upon them. Very, very carefully, she scooped the shelf of rock, its soil and its panicking people, into her cupped palm. She could feel their tiny hearts beating, or maybe that was her own. It was the most delicate thing she had ever done. She raised her hand, her face a vision of grey and green granite, and gently placed them on a patch of stable, grassy ground a mile away. They spilled out of her hand, stumbling and collapsing, staring up at her in mute terror. She gave them what she hoped was a reassuring look, a softening of her immense features. To them, it probably looked like a mountain about to slide.

She stood, the adrenaline leaving her limbs feeling like stone pillars. But then the ground shook differently. Not from her movement, but from his. Korr. He was a giant among Giants, his form a silhouette of raw power and arrogance. He saw her, her hand still extended, saw the tiny creatures she had just saved. A sound like grinding boulders erupted from him, the low, rumbling laughter of his kind.