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| They're like cute little creatures when they're small... |
Chapter Thirty-Four
The giant mutant salamanders were on the move…
With the coming of the cold weather, small game, birds and other creatures became harder to find. As the leaves fell off the trees, they collected underfoot, making it difficult to get food by stealth. It was harder to hide, and the warmth of the midday sun did not last long.
Bellies were going hungry, and it was a long time since any of the larger prey animals had put in an appearance. As if in some collective decision, the giant mutant salamanders were on the move. While the nights were bitter and frosty, the daylight beckoned. They followed the warmth of the sun as it traveled across the sky. Taking refuge in pools, and ponds, and deepnesses in the creek, they huddled together, seeking warmth in the soft oozing muck of the stream bed. Burrowing down head-first, they huddled together in family groups, and used torn-up water lilies and other weeds as a blanket. Rising only for air, they rode out the frigid, bitter nights.
On a moonless night, they stayed until dawn, but sometimes when the moon was full, they couldn’t resist its allure. Confused by its brilliance, bathed in its glare, yet the land remained dark. Eyes grown used to dimness, they relied on smell, and sound, and the very taste of the air around them, to find a warm, living, breathing body to consume.
They could not have told an impartial, objective observer why they were on the move, or how many of them there were, or if there were other groups like this one. All they knew, if they knew anything at all, was that they were hungry. They had to fill their bellies and get fat before the winter’s frozen hell descended upon them. It would turn their world into a stillness that they feared without understanding, for it was magic. They knew no other life, no other beings, but themselves. They knew of no other places, but this one.
They did not know about time, and space, and dimension, and if they had, they could have cared less about such false and artificial constructs of theory. They were hungry and they were going to fill their bellies and that was the only thing that had any importance at all to them.
They did not know about the creation. They did not know about good, and evil. They did not know right from wrong. They knew pain, and they knew pleasure.
They knew fear.
They knew safety and threat.
They knew the muck, and the mud and the river bottom. They knew the trees, the bushes and the plants. They knew the animals, the larger, bigger animals that they could eat now that The Change had come, and they could eat them. The whole world was open to them, if only they had the courage to seize it.
The Change had been foretold in prophecy.
Long ago, The Change had been foretold in prophecy, and it had come to pass. It only remained to be seen what the giant mutant salamanders would do with it. And they were strong. They had learned that you cannot reach the sun, no matter how warm and inviting.
They knew that you cannot touch the moon. But there were other lights, and they seemed much closer. They were moving towards the lights. Like the sun in the sky, like the cold dead eye of the moon, the pretty-colored lights beckoned from the far horizon, making the sky red with a ruddy glow. The surface of the water refracted and reflected this, both on top and under the surface. The dimmest orange flickering glow on the bottom of the river told them their destination was nigh. The warm illumination on the tree trunks invited their curiosity and promised good things to eat.
What more could a salamander reasonably ask? Red eyes glowed in the middle of the meandering creek. Then they submerged, to rest, to wait, and to sleep until tomorrow.
END
Images. Louis. He steals them from the internet. As for the cute little salamanders: This guy.
Louis has books and stories available from Amazon. He also has some art on ArtPal.
Thank you for reading.
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