Page 47 - THE BOOK 11 12 2020 8 pm FINAL_Neat

the movement making dents in the frozen white ground.

I swing my head up
tired of staring at blank ground

and gaze up at the sky
soft and muted, with the dark web of sleeping trees on the sides.

Always behind me is the growl of shining maybe-predators
running through their strange, narrow pasture that smells of tar and rock.

A maybe-predator snarls louder than the others,
and I wonder if it is dangerous.

The maybe-predator is blood-color.
It huddles along the side of the rock-tar pasture

and I wonder why it does not run like the others.
Maybe it is injured.

The side of the maybe-predator jolts open,

and an up-walker slides out.
I watch it warily

and prick my ears in surprise as another up-walker bounces from

the belly of the maybe-predator.

It is only a calf
smaller than the first up-walker

and it looks almost like one of the sleeping trees
thin and dark against the snow.

It struggles to match the pace of the taller one

like a calf following after its mother.
They do not look like predators

but I keep watching them in case they decide to attack.

The up-walker calf steps towards me
and puts out one front hoof.

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