LiLY's FieLD (a PReLuDe)

Lily slinked up an ash tree. Broken, it lay upon the mud. Her tongue, long and red, matched her fur. Dry was her breath, and vulgar from too little to drink. Lily traded stealth and cunning for hunger and anxiety. She was careless in her hunt. It had been two days since meat, less by a day since water. The creek was now dry. It was only mud and scattered puddles of unclean water from here on.

The forest floor, her disguise, was all but stripped bare. She bounded a broken ash; her ears perked. Twitching, her nose smelled a familiarity. Her eyes strained to see a sea of broken wood along the ground. Scarred and marred was her home. Acrid was the air she breathed. Smoke affected her magik.

A pool…

A ridge, deep and cut in the floor, started as a small ravine and opened to a pool. That is where she saw him, her feast. A giant bullfrog was frozen in the mud.

Lily’s eyes were like arrows. She saw the frog’s beating heart. She saw the veins between the neck and the chest. She saw his subtle vibration. Every heartbeat was a spell, and it had entranced her. The hairs on her back spiked. Her tongue slowly entered her mouth, and her breathing ceased. Perking her ears toward the frog, she could hear his breathing, the slight rub of his vocal cords. She could smell his breath. He’d eaten recently. Two meals in one. Excellent.

He was a massive bull, mighty and old, a creature of legend. His wisdom, though, was in question, or he was fearless and also should be feared. Lily had seen snapping turtles that matched this king.

Maybe he’d eaten another large frog. Yes, yes, two meals in one.

Her eyes moved to the pool. No movement. Her eyes scanned about the water, seeing gnats and a few flies. Back to the king. His back leg moved ever so slightly while she tarried.

Still, frozen was the king. The bull frog’s eyes twitched, and Lily saw the horse fly at the same second. Her head tilted to the left slowly and then to the right and back again. She felt confident that the bull knew she was there, so she had already started her dance of mesmerism.

Lily was a spear, straight into the air, and her nose was the blade, curving downward as the throw was finished. Her body was now fully curved and aimed upon the king on his mud. The bull’s tongue snapped to lap up the horse fly at the same time Lily’s mouth sank deep into his flesh. Her teeth locked tight into his back. Jerking its body twice and a third time, the king was no more. She bit down hard, and he became her meal. Frogs were not her favorite, but she hungered.

To wash down the frog, she licked the pool. Bitter and stale, she drank it anyway. There was a residue on the top, oily and brown in streaks. She continued to drink, only to survive, she told herself. She knew the water was infested with an evil spirit but didn’t understand it yet. She did not know its name or plan. She licked her paw to scrape the taste from her tongue. She noticed the water darkened the fur around her mouth and feet. She wiped on the mud to rid the spirit. Her stomach felt empty again. She again crept up an ash.

“You’ve gone and done it, ain’t ya, red fur?” A screech came from the sky.

“Ah, Munin, you’ll scare my food away with your racket,” Lily called up, her teeth gleaming white with a bit of frog between her fangs.

“This be my domain. My land, my pool, my trees, my frogs to dine with or on as I please.”

“The bull king wouldn’t have struggled to swallow you with one lap of his tongue, feather wing,” Lily responded.

As Munin landed, he changed shape into a black hooded man with black eyes.

“I don’t care for frogs as much as I care for this forest, Lily. I don’t know what’s happening. Where have all my trees gone?”

Lily looked inquisitively at the man in black but knew not his words.