Thomas threw spears from the back of the cave per his usual routine when he was with the rest of the group. Whenever a salamander would go after him, someone would always get in front of him. Out of all the weapons, his spears had killed the most. Out of all the salamanders, he only ever went after the weakest; those that couldn't defend against him. 'I know I'm weak,' he thought. 'I thought I was ok with that as long as I was with them.'
After the daily hunt, they relaxed back at their new home and sparred. The next day of hunting was the same as the previous. His hands, covered in cuts from messing up so many times when witling away, launched dozens of spears. He hit almost every shot but he never smiled at his work, simply picking the spears back up. He waited for the rest to go ahead so he could remain at his designated position, at the back. 'They would be so much better without me,' he thought. He glanced down at his sticks. 'Is this what I wanted?'
This chapter was originally double in length but I had to split it into two with the first half being uploaded today and the next tomorrow. This happened because these experimental chapters are much longer than normal, as you might have noticed from the last chapter's length. I might have learned how to write a little faster from this "new" technique, but the grind that is editing still takes hours. If I kept them the original length, I might as well upload two a day (which as you all know through my own trial and error I can't do).