"it's
got Sleazy!" Sappy managed to gasp
collapsing
on the rim of the smoky ravine,
in
a trembling frenzy to swallow air
unable
to imagine how they'd intervene.
Mock,
looking haunted, was utterly speechless
like
a zombie or some other bloodless saint,
the
ruddy and only pink-skinned Curmudgeon
gone
beyond the pale and passing for a haint.
Nate
pulled a chisel from his ruptured knapsack
and
shakily attained his unsteady feet.
then
he kissed Mock's forehead and started off,
as
valiant a hero as one could hope to meet.
"where
are you going?" Mock breathlessly asked,
toppling
again from his bark-encrusted crutches.
"to
have a go at saving our Sleazy.
i
can't just leave him in that horrid thing's clutches."
as
Nate descended into the gully,
Sappy
sat up, and surveyed the scene with wonder.
"i
have the impression we've been here before.
something
to do with a housekeeping blunder.
why,
this is the spot where we salvaged the sack,
with
the watchrug and battlerack, remember?"
"me
'ead's in an awful muddle, Sappy.
i've
a notion that beastie gave me distemper."
"surely
not, silly old bean. but come sit down.
i
want to inspect those clotted bandages."
Mock
winced while he warily lowered himself,
casting
aside his knotted appendages.
Sappy
visibly flinched from what he uncovered,
a
ground up mash of puce and livid red;
the
missing kneecap, several severed toes,
and
the seeping, shredded skin, hanging by a thread.
his
fingers were singed by a blistering fever
inflaming
the tainted, shivering frame.
he
was far from certain he'd ever recover
but
harboured no doubts he'd been rendered lame.
"well,
what do you think?" Mock placidly inquired,
gazing
obscurely into the mire.
"i
think i'll gather some fallen kindling.
it's
high time we lighted a night-biding fire."
the
titanic arachnid was rushing now
no
longer constrained by the stealthy attack,
with
Sleazy swaddled in a sticky wrapper
enthralled
and strung aloft on a pincered rack.
as
she hurtled forward on six of her legs
her
banged up bounty holding fast in its glue,
Pasty's
winged posse launched a frantic relay
scattering
feathers but keeping her in view.
Nate's
weary muscles were no match for this race
and
he lost his footing on wandering roots,
stumbling
in a slide of skating pebbles
letting
go of the chisel and both tangled boots.
his
spirit plunged ahead of his body,
railing
at the clumsiness that caused his demise.
next to jettison was trust in himself,
bereft of the caress that lived in Pally's eyes.
it
was then that he noticed the strange, stinging nips
plaguing
his limbs with myriad pinches,
like
sustained bites from relentless insects
concurrently
occurring every few inches.
it
soon sunk in that he wasn't sinking
but
heading instead toward a scrubby scrap of land,
clenched
in the claws of Sludge White's familiars
uplifted
by the grace of her avian band.
they
tucked him in a secluded crevice
overlooking
the chasm on a craggy ledge,
in
the gnarled branches of a tree that twisted
inquisitive
tendrils over the edge.
from
there he observed the spider's progress
as
his allies commenced an aerial assault,
pelting
her eyes with formidable fury
till
she sidled inside a shadowy fault.
and
a squealing cacophony exploded
from
the depths of a rather sizable cave,
to
judge by the numberless fleeing bats
that
swept from their sanctum in a dizzying wave.
the
birds encircled the precarious entry
posting
sentries for its keen-eyed tending,
and
busied themselves selecting the perches
they'd
need for a night spent preening and mending.
Nate's
pendulous roost was rattled by a stork
letting
slip from its beak a plump, leafy sling.
but
finding the feathered folk fetching his boots
he
divined they'd taken him under their wing.
he
dined al fresco at a portable feast
served
a la carte by a delicate sparrow,
as
an omen formed in the misty distance
a
single crow flying straight as an arrow.
in
the regions above the vice-ridden vapors
the
sky was suffused with orange and pink.
lament
for the sun's repetitive orbit
had
kindled the clouds that huddled on the brink.
the
forest beneath was brooding in silence
sifting
sediments and sighing in the shade,
as
though it longed for the cover of sunset
and
bided its time for the frail light to fade.
'i
should never have trusted that creature.
there's
not a sweeter web than spins from honeyed lies.
and
what has she done? how will they know
me?
they'll
never comprehend this improbable size.
the
biclops brutals didn't have them. that's
clear.
ooh! those tangles of tendrils! that spongy skin!
plus
the sharpened harpies splintered my vision,
so
now i'm more helpless than i've ever been.
it's
hard to believe they'd snatch my hatchlings.
i'd
feel it in my spinnerets if it were true.
spite
isn't skulking in their scant, frightened eyes.
this
one's deceptive, but hasn't got a clue.
i
see no reason to keep it trussed up
for
the stink overpowers this miserable hole.
i'd
fain unload it, yet still i wonder
if
as well as the smell, it's saddled with a soul.'
the
sun bled into the sizzling abyss
and
celestial lava spilled out of its wake
firing
the edges of lavender clouds,
a
dazzling illusion of a vast burning lake.
encumbered
below in an eddy of eagles,
billowing
smudges and dark purple streaks
a
bleary-eyed king glowered at the bleakness,
dodging
the logic he'd eluded for weeks.
yet
a novel notion distracted him
as
he glanced from his aerie, adrift in the dusk.
an
urgency encroached on his facile thoughts
making
them uneasy in their crown-capped husk.
a
consequential question had not been resolved
or
he'd overlooked some critical thing.
and
this feeling unflaggingly nagged him,
forever
intruding like the itch from his ring.
these
reveries receded with the sunlight
stranding
conjecture on an ominous slope.
shadows
seeped into regions of reason
ridding dimming prospects of unrequited hope.***** * ***** * ***** * ***** * *****
- Evan Hawthorn, the 18th of April, 2016
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