Wen-le-gone shuffles
in fallen leaves.
Uses his paws to search
through mounds
of autumn carnage.
Leaves tumble faster
with every day.
Scent of cinnamon
heavy on the air.
He looks for a stick.
Should be easy, in woodland,
but every branch
is too crooked,
too thick,
too thin.
Gnawed
or cracked.
Discards another stick.
Sits on a horizontal,
aerial root
of banyan.
Ponders a flock
of windfleers veering
towards The Churn.
Considers Odymn.
Hairless skin.
Thick pink lips.
Front-facing eyes.
Long clawless fingers.
Wen-le-gone rubs
the scent glands on his muzzle.
Wonders if the freckles
on Odymn's nose
are vestigial.
By Argenop standards
she is ugly as beelwort.
But kind,
soft-spoken,
loyal.
Her life
as a Dock-winder slave
not enviable —
plaything of the Gel-heads.
He is amazed she survived.
Retained her empathy
and her humour.
Wen-le-gone ducks.
A crack
in the banyan
above his head.
A shower of leaves
and a branch
plummets.
Lands on Wen-le-gone's
furry forehead.
He rubs his brow.
Scoops up the branch.
Thick and sturdy.
Tries to crack it
over his knee.
Thwacks it
against a grammid
a time or two.
Just what he needs.
YOU ARE READING
Meniscus: One Point Five - Forty Missing Days
Science FictionAfter the Slain is shot, Odymn and an Argenop elder work together to try and return him to good health. As they journey towards the Themble, survival is a challenge. Odymn must add to her foraging skills and survive an attack by the vicious kotildi...
