The Yellow Tent

It looked like soil, unassuming. I ran my eyes across it to find its edge and failed. It was unfathomably large. My tent seemed comically bright with its yellow polyester splashed against the night. I’d felt the swelling and sinking beneath me as I had tried to sleep and stepped outside to realise that the trees around me swayed, but there was no wind, and the heat below had not left with the sun. I had pitched my tent in the worst place imaginable. On the back of a creature so large that the forest floor heaved with its breathing.