Looking a bit ahead in time, to the year sixty-seven Post Sections, and in the subjacent space beneath the temples of the free dome, Eris’s fall seems like it will be interrupted by an improbable rebounder at the bottom of the cliff. Soon, she will tilt at an improper angle and continue for another half second, only to suddenly stop, as if by magic, into the embrace of the pack of three.
The very ones who had just killed, for they never stopped following her scent.
Into the arms of Ver, specifically, the corporeal lieutenant who saves Eri from certain injury, perhaps death.

The three of them converse for a while and then, disregarding Eris, they shout, “Who does he think he is pushing her like this?”

By command of Cer, the suspicious leader, the three-headed gang storms the scene, and from this moment on, they vow to defend the honor of their prize, starting with the conquest of their new enemy with the extremely curious belt full of pockets.

They roar wildly in unison, “He must pay, blood!”

Choky isn’t good at love, and now finds himself cornered by a tactical assault of undefined technique, since he’s not good at fighting either. But as he’s proven, he is good at evasion—and that’s usually more than enough.
Now, however, he’s caught so off-guard it borders on surrender.
His mind mourns the escape of a fated love, and his body seems unwilling to keep up the fight for long.
Most likely, he will soon be rendered incapable of further resistance. With their sharp claws, they mark and wound his ribs, trying to immobilize him, until, silently, the sneaky Rous grabs him by the belt, gaining the upper hand for his team.
The pack pauses to savor the type of scent rising from the pockets of the belt.
Their schizoid admiration for multi-tools and their craving for treats momentarily push aside any interest in anything else.

The pack stops to enjoy the scent emanating from the belt’s pockets. Their schizoid admiration for the multitools and their craving for the delicacies momentarily override their interest in anything else.
Faced with this new revelation, which at first glance seems oddly precious, Choky sees that their priorities may be shifting.

“Mysteriously… the spoils… seem more tempting than the prize… they don’t want me so much anymore,” thinks Choky fearlessly, ready to negotiate one more heroic escape.

“At this moment… the best move… ditch the belt… reassess the odds in my favor… coincidental chances… but where is Ro again?” he shouts.

“Your friend… what’s his name… Ro… is not here… He’s gone… Left…” answers Cer.

“And if… this knowledge… isn’t enough… to show you how… or where?” Ver continues.

“What should I say now?… You said it all, tall brother… I took your guy down…” Russ whispers.

“…No… I ate him… more,” Ver insists.

“…I am… the leader… I deserve in my hands… first… the belt…”

“…I’m… the leader… I deserve… the belt… in my hands… first…”

Without another thought, Choky undoes the belt and of Ker, Ver, and Rous—and this act saves him,
Without further ado, Choky unfastens the belt, leaves it at the mercy of Ker, Ver, and Rous, and this act saves him from the three dog-headed men.