SHELTER

 

The Insects crawling over the leaves resonated to me like a troop of buffaloes. One or two birds dove to catch prey or fruits. The bird’s wing feathers whistled as they descended. Not any other animal became as visible. I longed for a friendly face. Even that of those who warned me against my present choice of housing. I avoided the dry twigs or dead foliage. The noise would carry a great distance. I stooped so my shadow or profile will not give me away. Silence reassured me, but I dreaded their return. 

As I returned to our home, I scanned the space close to the entrance. My fear did not abate until I passed the entry. I squeezed myself through the opening. The sharp bend in the key passage foiled the access of anyone bigger than us. Indeed, we found the new dwelling safer, but food scarcer to find.

My dear mate waited. She tried hard to hide her dread of my search for fare. I rubbed her back and groomed her brown hair to ease her cares. I called her Fuzzy. She disliked the nickname, but she melted my fears as we made love.

Later, I did not move until everything grew silent. I went on with my current project: My digging, slow and muted, produced little noise. We needed another secure entrance to our refuge. The idea of having the only exit blocked struck terror in our hearts. I kept digging towards a spot that rang hollow. Perhaps I had found the breakthrough I sought! A sudden crash caused me to shudder in the tunnel. I interrupted my task and sniffed the air. No, it was not them. They could not dig very well, but I suspended my work for a while. Later I broke through but did not find the awesome woods where I often foraged. I walked into the unknown area. A flat plain devoid of plants stretched before me. The pungent smell of food dazed me and guided me on. Suddenly, the gaze of the inhabitant fell on me. We stared at each other, paralyzed. Panic pinned me to the ground. Once we hid in an old mansion full of books. I saw some images of enormous monsters, but none as huge and dreadful as the creature I had before me. Afterward, I did not remember how I jumped back into the jagged fresh hole I just dug.

After the fright subsided, I roamed the unexplored space cautiously. The beast ate there but did not leave an edible bit.

A few days later, Fuzzy told me about a strange green package left before our new exit. A presentment drove me to tell her not to touch it. I ventured out to look around for food the next morning. Suddenly I heard an ominous sound and dashed home. Fuzzy looked faint and unsteady. She moved dully along. She gazed at me with angst. I was frozen with fear and the inability to help her. She slumped backwards, her legs quivered in the air, and her long tawny tail twitched as she died.