In another world, life is cold and grey and frozen water hangs in the air like crystals, obscuring the view through the trees. The trees are tall and straight, and impossibly close together. The occasional rodent skitters through mingled ice flakes and needles littering the forest floor. The trees breathe silently, and the heat of their breath melts the air just enough that icicles drip gracefully from every branch. Occasionally out of the gloom one of them creaks and sighs, but mostly they are content to sleep and to wait.
Long ago the Demons from the North passed through this forest on their way to invade the stronghold of Hedgemony. They were driven back (details are vague, but so they were, and there was heroism involved), and for an age the wood echoed their shrieks and cries. Now they are still again, and the battle all but forgotten.
This forest is now home to the rare and beautiful Cactus Moth, an icy blue, timid creature the size of a small wombat. They perch on the larger icicles to cool their feet, which are perpetually hot enough to be on fire. Occasionally one is too long away from a perch, and then its feet start to smoke. Sometimes it does not remedy the problem in time, and then it spontaneously combusts with a quiet little *piff!* in a cloud of blue smoke.
Well, really. What do YOU think about on a Tuesday afternoon?
2 comments:
Liked it! It's so you. Sort of like Dunsany too, but he doesn't make me laugh.
Ooooo! I want to hug one of those wombat things and then throw it like a ball into a lake!!!
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