The center has probably sunk in a flood hundreds of years ago, subsidence probably, but it looks almost as if something has punched the middle of this smaller bowl downwards with a giant fist. It occurs to me that if I could get safely down inside this pit would be invisible, indian unless a Hunter flew right overhead. It might be a promising hiding place, especially if there are caves in there. I inch forward to look down and see how far the drop is. Not very far - the pit is only about ten feet deep, and while the sides are vertical a competent climber could get back out. But I recoil in disgust all the same, getting as far from the drop as I can on the ledge. What I’ve just seen occupying the pit is one of Aghara-Penthay’s unpleasant indigenous life forms. A huge plant fills most flash of the twenty foot diameter recess. It is pale green and looks like a form of succulent, evolved to New retain what water it can in the arid heat. Wide leaves, each larger than a rug, desi carpet the floor of the pit, radiating out from the plant’s center like six petals. In the middle of these large leaves the vegetation converges at a smaller disc, only six feet across. This disc looks as if it’s filled with a sticky syrup, the way a tart might hold jelly. The tendrils are the most chilling thing, reaching out unseeing to the edges of the plant’s space. There are dozens of them, thin, like vines. Already they twitch, sensing me even at this distance. Revulsion make my skin break out into bumps. I know what plants like this do from viewing it in action, when a woman was thrown onto one like it during a Rape Run years ago. It’s a carnivore. Leshan was the one to blame. Yes, I remember now, tormenting bus a famous concern musician who didn’t yield to him quickly enough. He told her all she had to do to go free was walk across it. She never made it. The plant senses anything in its territory and the tendrils move as quickly as snakes, restraining the victim. Then the captive is drawn into the center where the leaves roll up, mummifying the poor soul to be slowly digested by the sticky pool. Once it has a good hold on you, escape is impossible unless you’re armed. Death in the syrup is gradual, not like Oorla’s demise. The beautiful musician had laid there for half a day before the burning from the sticky jelly became unbearable and she begged for slavery. “Well you can count me out of that.” Brandan scoffed. It was my first flash orgasm of the day. Dan said. “Big shock. “She says bus she needs to speak to you.” He then looks down at my grandmother and say's "Look up indian at me" Chloe connected the dots and immediately stormed around the corner of the generator. My husband stumbled downstairs while I was heading out to the car with my two children. Then she leaned in close and kissed me. She said, “This is the best punishment ever.” I had to laugh. “I am in bed” New she stated boldly. "No princess. Both cried out as they came at desi nearly the same time. “That’s Detective to you,” Bullock chuckled. He’d seen her fight, and knew she had the skills to evade his grasp if she really wanted to. I begin thrusting. "Oh no" Sarah said, as Martha popped the poppers.