It was insectoid in base form with six legs and low to the ground.
But its carapace rippled with chromatophore cells that changed through the forest colors before settling on a mottled brown-green.
Trapikis[1] genes.
And its legs—long, digitigrade, built for explosive bursts of speed.
Duma[2] genes.
That explained the impossible pace.
Ethan hadn't been running at all. He had been riding on something.
Blood seeped through the creature's skin where its camouflage had failed. The dark stains spread across its flanks.
Whatever gene-splicing process had created it, the result seemed to be a little unstable.
The thing was dying even as it carried its master.
Xavier met Lt. Hawn's eyes across the clearing and gave a short nod.
Lt. Hawn had done good work.
Ethan almost rolled his eyes in exasperation. He stepped away from his dying mount and spread his arms.
"Since you clearly don't want me to leave," Ethan said lightly, "then I suppose I'll just have to make you leave."
