Big Salmon Lake s y m p h o n y

he did not see her, but she saw him. already she was slowing, stopping, lowering first her front and then her rear to the cold earth, which sucked and pulled at her feather pelt as if it wished to pull her into the earth. her tail curled tightly around her abdomen, her feathered ears wilted. her gaze was kept averted on the lake, and she fell utterly still. she watched the waters with slowly mounting horror, silver gaze sharp and searching for any abnormal ripple. how often had she dreamt of great things existing, living, eating beneath the waves, when sleep came stalking? tongue rasped across her lips, and the beast retreated. 

s n a p. she cringed into herself, the snap echoing across the lake. she stilled again. to submit was to be safe, and low and still as she was, she thought herself perfectly that.