I pride myself on being able to spot the early warning signs of impending trouble. Hints like screams, the odd orc spear slamming into the ground near my feet, and the sound of running feet are usually enough to give me two minutes' advance notice of danger.
Of course, it can take anything up to ten minutes to get the Duckling ready to fly.
I could seen movement on the trail down through the jungle towards the lake. Quite a lot of movement, actually. Not quite a herd of vinbani, but not far off. That had to be my passengers, and whoever was chasing them - most probably orcs - could not be far behind.
I flung myself up the flimsy gangplank like a startled djinn, through the cabin and into the cockpit. The Duckling's a good amphibian, dependable, with a high wing and two props. I hauled on the starters for both engines - four years ago I paid an exorbitant price to Charyk Venth, a dwarven engineer I know in Muugral, to build starter motors for the two engines. They've saved my life twice, since, and this looked likely to be a third time. Mind you, even saving my life three times the price was higher than it had any right to be.
As always, comments welcomed!