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04-29-2017, 05:06 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-05-2017, 02:36 PM by Stellaluna.)
Stellaluna...
While the forest slept soundly, peacefully, beneath a dim sliver moon, a shadow swept swiftly between old, looming pines like just a puff of warm breeze, a will-o’-the-wisp, revelling in a cosy cloak of obscurity. That was how she preferred it, needed to be - unseen, noticed, leaving only a trail of soft scent for her hunters to follow. The tiny bat had travelled far that night, still further than ever she had ever strayed before. Dancing hither and thither in the midst of a make-believe kingdom rife with the cheer of magical folk (an adored fantasy-land detailed each morn by Ma), she had pulled those dreadful ‘Banksia-men’ far, far away from home. Pride swelled through her dainty frame, bolstered her flimsy, pubescent courage and pushed her along harder; that and the murmur of snarling voices to the rear. "That sod’s right up ahead… Catch’er vermin! Don’t let ‘er get away…" On and on she flew with dazzling speed and agility that would’ve stolen Da’s words clean off his tongue. Even as the flavour of eucalyptus vanished from her greedy little nostrils altogether, she skirted the next trunk and zipped beneath a moss covered bridge - a gathering of nut-folk upon it’s stiff length whooped loudly in her honour; below it, and with their form lost in deeper shade still, the bright, shrill voices of excited bush creatures sang out (the bat imagined boldly that they were the stripped numbat family from down Moggill Creek, and old, greying Mrs Bandicoot who knew everything and anything, about everyone). A stiff branch and the strange needles upon it, whipped her face suddenly (she was tiring, at last, her flitting grew sloppy)… “Ow, !” …she cried breathlessly, glancing left for a split second, to glare at the small, winged fox who’s companionship she was seldom without. To her surprise, however, where her sister’s scruffy red body should have been sailing in perfect unison, there was only stunning, silent darkness; cold and barren. “Charlie?” …came a smaller voice, nervous and concerned; the illusion began to disintegrate around her then, at a terrifying rate and dread as heavy as lead, set upon both the bat’s heart and mind. All too quickly the game was lost, and it became frighteningly apparent that she was very alone. Lost. “Ma…” she whispered fearfully, falling from grace with an uncharacteristic thud; leathery wings fastened warily against the svelte length of her barrel. The earth was neither grassed nor soft like it ought to have been, and trembling lips grazed hesitantly across the peculiar leaf litter; the tastes thereon were all wrong, sickeningly potent - like the stench of a two-week old corpse. Offended, slim nostrils danced back into the air, the sanctuary it offered, and with wingspan unfurling once more, the tiny creature flapped into the sprawling canopy of an oak. She was well practiced - a natural born tree-dweller, and where the bough united with it’s climbing parent, she nestled down to wait for a familiar… anything, to come by. "Turn on the dark, I'm afraid of the light!" |
