FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Do you know that feeling when you're standing knee-deep in quicksand, and you know that if you don't do something, you'll drown? No, you've probably never really been in actual quicksand, but think about it. We've all been in a situation where time was not on our side. Where letting things go their way could only make them worse. Right? Something needs to be done, and it needs to be done by you, and you better do it fast or you'll regret it, that's all you know. So you jump up and down, you wriggle and squiggle, you work up a sweat and make an ass out of yourself, you make lemonade of every single overripe citrus fruit that you're being pelted with, you put your best foot forward and you grab the cow by the horns, But there's a catch: You've already crossed the point of no return ages ago. It raced past you like a ninja on coke, screaming and waving at your unobservant ass, while you were just noticing that strange splooshy noise underfoot. And you did not suspect a thing. And now that your head is about to go under and all trace of what happened here will be gone, this final thought pops through your head: You never had a fighting chance to begin with. The truth is you were screwed from the very beginning, and only now does it become apparent.

Well, that sucks.

Impulse

Up, Down, Left, Right. Combine these to go Forward, Backwards is rarely used. Surface, Bottom, Breath, these are limits. End procedure at Goal.

These are impulses. An impulse consists of input and reaction to that input, and so differs from a thought. When one is above the surface, one uses thought for everything. But the fundamental power and weakness of thoughts is that they separate input and output. When you think, you get an input that is stored and processed in the brain before being acted upon. The impulse, however, travels through the senses, the body, and exits my being without hesitation. It allows me to respond and act without delay, thus giving me a critical edge over the enemies that surround me. My brain stays inactive while the body carries it to Goal. Which is, in this case, another like me.

So, to go Forward, I alternate movements to Left and Right, am propelled through this swamp, my eyes closed, my feet dragging through the mud. I am looking for a mate. My desire to reproduce is controlled by impulse instead of thought, my body swims pretty much on its own. Everything I am apparently supposed to do comes natural, because it is natural. Funny how instinct works. When I was young, I always wondered what it would be like when this phase in my life began. I was told I would feel an overwhelming desire to go out and find a female, fighting as many other males as possible that I probably didn't even know in the process. I couldn't imagine putting myself through all that for a slim chance at offspring, but now, for some reason, it feels like the only logical thing to do. So, a couple of weeks ago, I left the patch of river I had grown up in and now, here I am.

I've been in a scrap with two other guys since then, both of which could've ended a lot worse, I suppose. The first one was quite a lot smaller than me. I was going through unknown territory when I heard him rumbling. He was resonating his lungs to produce a deep noise that can travel for hundreds of meters through water. Of course, you try to make it sound as loud and macho as possible, it's our only way of warning other males. You see, when we run into each other we don't really have an option but to throw down. The only thing worse for your reputation with the females than losing a fight is chickening out. But if you hear a potential rival from a distance, if you want, you can get the hell out without being noticed. It gives us a chance to avoid a more powerful opponent without losing face. But when I heard this guy, his trembling little voice, trying to sound big, I just snapped. I could easily hear he wasn't nearly as tough as he was trying to sound, and under normal circumstances, I would have appreciated the runt's courage to make any sound at all (I'm not such a bad guy myself, you know). But something strange came over me, and before I knew it, a was going at his face underwater like a madman. He took off like a flea, and I felt good. Unfortunately, there were very few other gators to see. The other one was more of a challenge. We ended up snarling and snipping at one another for a while, before retreating simultaneously with a fake "You are a worthy opponent but I could take you easily if I wanted" look. (It was fake from me, and he didn't look too convincing either. ) I haven't seen anyone else since.

So today, wandering through these unknown streams, I'm beginning to get the feeling I'm lost. One day, I will look back at this moment, and it will become apparent to me that I was actually exactly where I should have been, if you believe in fate and all that, but for now, turning back looks like a good idea. My species tends to flock together in certain areas, and to leave that area would be a bad idea if I'm looking for a potential mate. I decide to sleep on it. Right in front of me is a piece of... well.. Either muddy grass or grassy mud. I'm not sure, but it's there and alligators aren't picky sleepers. With the sun going down and my heavy belly sinking into the dirt, I make a quick mental schedule for tomorrow. I should probably eat something, and swim back at an angle. That seems like my best option if I want to run into as many other alligators as possible. Sigh.

To do: Eat Turn back Make noise Fight Stand out Build rep

Mate

And after that? As far as the species is concerned, I'm no longer needed. I've done my part, nobody cares what I do afterwards. Not my lucky lady, not my young, not anyone. It sounds a little depressing to say it like that, but it's kind of cool too. Be honest, if you had done every single thing that you ever had to do in life before the age of ten, wouldn't you be proud of yourself? It's a strange mental picture that pops up in my head now:

To whom it may concern:

Thank you for reproducing. We hope you enjoyed your existence. Your presence will no longer be required. Please exit the universe.

Have a nice day,

The world

A chuckle and a content feeling. That's my reward.

I check off the first item on the list without too much trouble the next morning. The fish are big and plentiful. But just when I prepare to swallow my catch headfirst, I notice something more important on the far bank of the river. She's looking at me with a businesslike interest, one eye aimed straight at me, her tail in a slack coil around a sort of log. And all of a sudden, eating is no longer priority. She can see me coming over, because she's looking directly at me, but she doesn't move. Yet. Good sign number one. (Am I overestimating myself by starting to number the good signs already?) The first thing that comes to mind when I'm within conversational distance is "Hi", followed by "How would you like to have my children?" but for some reason that second line feels like one to keep on hand for now.

"Hello."

"I caught a fish."

"I can see that."

...

Are you laying any eggs soon?

"How does that concern you again? Remind me."

"Well, if you are, I'm wasting my time with you. I need to know in order to increase my chances."

I tried to make it clear right from the start that I did not want to play games. She doesn't want a bull without other options any more than I wanted a mate who was already pregnant. When members of our species make contact to reproduce together, we can't seem too eager. An alligator who will take anyone for a mate will not get one, because we only want the most genetically powerful and healthy parents for our offspring. It's not really that complicated, but it is hard to explain. The bottom line is that I have to at least pretend I have girls hanging from my tail, if you will, although in reality she's the only other gator I've even seen in days. Unfortunately, she doesn't seem to buy it. The females that pay attention see through this very easily if you don't ...

Time stops. My mind drifts away from the girl, over her shoulder actually, to the eye that has opened in the undergrowth behind her. It's frozen stillness drills into my brain. There is no thought behind that eye, no emotion, no mercy. It is the eye of a twelve foot long behemoth who's strange color had him so perfectly camouflaged I mistook him for a log when he was sleeping. This is bad. This is very, very bad. I had been told there were alligators that big, but I have never seen one. This guy is old, and judging from the scars on his snout he has been around the block, too. But that's not all. For some reason, it's as obvious as you could possibly ask for: he doesn't want to scare me away. He wants to kill me. And then, the pounce! The last thing I remember thinking is: How can someone that big be that fast? I know for a fact he didn't knock me unconscious, or I'd be dead now, but the memories are vague and full of teeth. He pressed me underwater, all the way down into the bottom, a scream of shock most likely uttered by that lady, the dead fish I was still holding being wacked out of my mouth by a flat tail. Raged threats roared, immense pressure on my head (which would probably be excruciating if I felt anything), two forepaws like steel chains being wrapped around my chest, like a violent caricature of a hug.

Impulses:

Hold breath

Flap tail

Bite

Push

Panic

He's got my shoulder in his mouth, inches away from my ear, as he screams something unintelligible. I couldn't care less what he's saying. This is not intimidation or pretend-fighting, this guy means business. I'm gonna choke if I don't breathe soon, is that what he wants? But because I'm still in a bear hug, I can't...

Eye

Right next to me

Tooth

In

Scrape

It comes to me without any apparent reason. Divine inspiration. I fling my head sideways ninety degrees, more than I should be able to, and guided by chance, my upper canine lands just above his eye, scraping down with ripping sound over his protruding eyeball. The effect is exactly what I hoped. An agonized yowl and the bone-shattering pressure on my chest is gone, and with my tail I catapult myself to the surface, gasping for air. Splashing and thrashing I crawl up on the shore. No time to relax though. Behemoth-like jaws are no more than ten yards away. Alligators can be quick as lightning, especially this one, as he has already shown, but we can't run more than a few times our body length. I just know that right now, he's trying to answer the same question as I am;

If he comes at me now, will he get me?

He's wheezing, just like me, his eyes wide open, staring straight into mine. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was terrified of something. But that's probably just a projection of my own overwhelming mortal fear. What bizarre mental illness made an alligator, one of my own kind, into this kind of monster? What has once driven all thought, consciousness and desire out of his mind, leaving only this? His jaw goes up and down as if to speak or swallow something big, but only after a few seconds do words come out.

"Go. Go away and don't come back. St... stay away from her."

His movements are slow as if his bones were made of lead. I don't think he has slept in days, and strangely enough, I feel bad for him. He looks broken. Like one would break a paw and drag it through the dirt, and never be able to do anything with it ever again. A useless appendage, just hanging there for the rest of your days.

That, surprisingly, is the part that sticks with me, as I lay my weary body to rest that evening. I can't sleep. The memory of my nearly-fatal encounter with that mysterious juggernaut keep playing through my mind over and over. We males fight in this time of year, that's just the way it is, and we couldn't change it if we wanted to. And sometimes, we get hurt. But there is an idea behind it all. You don't go for a kill on someone who has obviously no chance of defeating you. That's an obvious unwritten rule. There are multiple reasons why. It's a waste of energy, sure. But the most important thing is: It damages the species. If a male gets killed in a fight, he will never be able to father any young ever again. By killing a guy, you not only put yourself at an unnecessary risk, you do permanent, unforgivable damage to the population as a whole. And that is why, no matter how messed up on adrenaline and testosterone you may be, you don't take an opponent's life. But when the Giant tried to drown me, he did something that should go against every ancient instinct he had.

Why?

My brain curls around like a snake, trying to wrap itself around his motives, in vain. But then, my fruitless meditations are interrupted by a smooth voice whispering: "wake up!"

It's her! It's the girl who, technically, got me into this entire mess. I'm happy to see Her, and that surprises me. I should be pretty mad at her for not telling me her psychopath stalker( as I assume he was) was right behind her while I was hitting on her. And here I am, and so is She, and what happened is not relevant now. She looks like she needs my help, and that is more important. It's a strange train of thought, but it makes sense. It doesn't make sense, but it makes sense.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so, but I could've been doing lot worse. Who is that freak?"

"I ran into him a few weeks ago. We talked a little, and I thought he might be good as a potential mate, I mean, you've seen how big he his, none of the other males came near him... Fat bastard." She looked away, as if she was feeling a bit guilty. "He seemed kind of normal back then, but he started acting strange within a few days. When we met, he was also looking for someone to carry his young, but he never wanted to mate with me. When other males came near me, he completely flipped. I tried to get away from him, but he won't stop following me around!"

"But why is he following you if he doesn't want to mate?"

"I don't know what he wants from me! Every time I bring it up, he says he has to go hunt and goes away, somewhere too far for him to hear me, but close enough to see me. A few days ago it got really bad. Some guys almost got killed when they... well, you know." She lets out a giggle that somehow isn't entirely out of place. "I'm scared. I need to get away from him. I thought he would make a good mate at first, but size isn't everything. He's so unpredictable, he will probably get himself killed one day. And I don't want my young to be impulsive little psychopaths like him, that's a recipe for disaster. And that's where you come in." She smiled.

"Keep talking..", I said, as if I hadn't decided yet how I would respond, regardless of what she would ask.

"I guess it's your lucky day, because I still need someone to father my young. But we'll have to leave this place. And leave it good. First, you'll have to get me as far away from him as possible. He's asleep now, but it's almost dawn already, so we should leave early tomorrow night if we want a head start, which we do. We need a place where he can't find us, and where we can safely stay for a while. Preferably somewhere without swarms of other gators, but not the complete middle of nowhere. You know this area better than I do, any ideas?"

She catches me off guard, coming up with a plan all by herself, then asking for my opinion all of a sudden."Uhm, I er... Hold on... I think.. Yes! This river, you see, splits into all these different streams before reaching the ocean. This particular one doesn't split downstream anymore, but if we go upstream for a bit and turn west, we're in an entire different arm of the river. He'll look for us downstream, end up in the ocean, problem solved."

"Sounds good. Just a little too good to be true. What makes you so sure that's safe? If you can come up with this, why can't he?"

I have no idea why it would be safe at all, so I'll have to bluff. "I'd like to think I'm at least a little bit smarter than him. And you haven't come up with an actual idea so far." That sounded slightly sassier than I had imagined. I regret saying it immediately when I see her face.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"Never mind. So... should I pick you up tomorrow at sundown?"

"You shouldn't risk it. If Big Old Meanie is up late and catches so much as a glimpse of you, you're... well, I hate to say it, but I have to be honest: you'll die. How about this: you stay here tomorrow. When I get the chance, I'll bolt, I'll meet you here, and we'll swim back upstream with a curve."

"Wait a minute. You actually want to go back past the spot where he's sleeping, in the middle of the night? What if he wakes up and notices you're gone, and he happens to run into us?"

"It's a big river, and you know it better than he does. Besides, you're making it sound like we have options."

"Fine. Then that's what we'll do."

I look east to see the first rays of sunlight coming over the treetops. By the time the sun itself has risen, a long, uncomfortable silence has ended.

That evening, I wake up a little later than I had planned. I guess the idea of planning when you wake up is stupid in itself. At least the sun isn't completely down and I'm glad She isn't here yet. I would have felt kind of stupid if She had found me sleeping and had to wake me up. She might have thought I had forgotten about Her, or that I wasn't taking this seriously. I spent the last few hours eating and sleeping. I did not get much sleep last night after She left, and I have kind of a big day ahead. I recall saving a turtle I caught for Her, but it's nowhere to be seen. Maybe someone took advantage of my sleeping state and helped themselves to an easy meal. But I put it right under my paw, so it must have been tricky for that rat or snake or whatever it was to remove it. It's a small consolation that the thief that took the turtle I had intended as a gift at least had to play a nerve wrecking game of Operations for his meal. It's probably for the best. When She gets here, we won't be having a romantic dinner by moonlight anyway.

"Ready to go?"

"Ah, there you are. Right on schedule. You really shouldn't sneak up on me like that, for all I knew it was your jealous friend again."

"If anyone sneaks up on anyone, you can safely assume it's not him. He's more of a "direct charge-all or nothing - act first think later" kind of guy. And he's not my friend."

"Never mind. Let's just go. I assume he hasn't seen you leave?"

"I wouldn't be here if he had, would I now?"

We whisper instinctively not to disturb the silence of the night. It's completely dark now, but the swamp is far from asleep. Nameless things slither and crawl around in perfect silence, and tonight we will be among them while all the big things sleep. On our smooth bellies we slide into the water, our big tails push us forward without so much as a splash. Two ripples, no more, sneak away into open water.

---

All that was probably no more than three weeks ago. It feels like more, much more. For some reason I don't remember much of how we got here. We had been going for nearly 24 hours straight, a marathon-swim, if you will. When we left the spot where I had been waiting for my partner (which I feel comfortable calling Her now, more on that later), we didn't speak at all. That was the scariest part, I think, that first bit upstream. It was absolutely pitch-black, which we hadn't really thought of. We could navigate by touch fairly well, we knew we just had to keep going upstream, but getting lost wasn't the scary part. What we were most afraid of was the possessive fat giant that might just be dreaming his messed-up dreams within earshot. Notice how I said might be? Here's a nice metaphor: Imagine walking, crawling, swimming, or whatever kind of locomotion you prefer down a long, narrow hallway, naked and blindfolded, without touching the walls. Sounds like a challenge, right? What if someone told you that the walls might be doused with skin-melting acid. Hey, who told you to take off that blindfold?

How can someone I had only "met" once still scare me so much? Every noise startled us, and eventually we were swimming for our lives without any real threat, our gasping breath the only noise to be heard. I guess there are two kinds of panic: if something or someone jumps you when you least expect it, you get the classic kind of panic: your body responds to imminent danger by producing adrenalin, your heart goes faster, you gasp for air, blah, blah, blah, we've all been there. Evolution's got yo' back. But that crazy night, the two of us experienced a new kind. A kind that build us in your stomach, slowly but irresistibly, until you run from the nightly terrors you don't even know, all you know is that it latches on to you and consumes you until your body collapses. And once you're in that metaphorical hamster wheel, you might just need to see a sunrise to realize what's going on. You can't really appreciate the morning until you've lived through a night like that, with only your fear and another fearful one to keep you company. Or at least, one who you thought to be fearful like you.

I often have no idea how She feels. She's hard to "read", as some say. When we were watching the sunrise after that crazy adrenalin-fueled night, She looked at me with a look of calm expectation. Wordlessly I looked back. The water dripping from the triangular standing scales on Her snout broke the raking light from the enflamed horizon into countless colors. Dripping, shining, flickering, burning... a radiant beauty, intimidatingly perfect in its simplicity, like the stillness of the water before we had arrived, that simply and perfectly reflected the sky, no more, no less. Floating there, where the world awakened at the bifurcation of a never-sleeping river, I found myself thinking: if time ever stops, let it be now. Because if this silence would never end, I would never have to leave this place. I would lie here into eternity, with no fear, and no desire, and everything else would be far away. But like this river, time will not stop, not now or ever, blind to us puny creatures, regardless of who we are and what we do. It can seem slow now and then, but woe the man who thinks he can submit it to his will! Time goes on and eventually breaks everything and everyone that dares stand in its way. In this case it broke the silence in Her voice. She slowly drifted into the unknown stream before us and simply said: "Come."

Yes, all must obey the voice of time.

Our new home is not too far from where the river split(s), because we were so tired when we got there. There were only a few other alligators around. I'm not sure, but I think those of them who could mate already had. There were only some young males looking at us when we came in, and to my satisfaction my mate did not even glance back at them. She has no obligation whatsoever to stay with me. All we have is a vague agreement, it would have been so easy for Her to leave. But She was truly mine by then, for some reason I will probably never truly understand. All I can do now is silently gloat over my luck. And sleep. And hunt. And not think about tomorrow. It's like being in a dream, an omnipresent haze of blissful ignorance. Every day is one, big, thoughtless impulse. Unfortunately, as I had realized three weeks ago, even when the days blur together time does not stop to leave blissful ones in that state. In other words, this story is not done quite yet. And therefore, today, I have wandered slightly further downstream from home than usual. The ocean is just a few yards away. When I first saw it, I scared me a little with its vast emptiness. I had never even imagined something so big. But it also fascinates me, all that water with nothing in it, no plants, no animals, no bottom... just miles and miles of endless blueness. The water here tastes saltier already. If I just let my body float without moving, I'm washed into the surf by the flow of the water. Each time, a wave comes and pushes me back into the mouth of the river, that pushes me back again, as if the swamp and the sea are playing hot-potato. To the east, a tree with no branches or roots is gently swayed between the waves.

But it is not a tree. It is a man I have encountered before, once in a different lifetime, three weeks ago. But he has changed. He was a bulking mass of muscle and fat at the time, commanding fearful respect from all those who dared to cross his path. Now he is so skinny that he is hardly there at all. One of his eyes is a blood clot in a ragged socket. The other one, once soullessly black, has become a blood-shot milky pink from the seawater. Drifting so agonizingly slow... He was once the single most dangerous thing I knew of, but now he is a victim. And I'll be damned if I shouldn't just leave now, but driven by impulse, I grab his tail between my jaws, gently, because it feels as if it might break off any minute, and drag him to shore. It's easy. He barely resists, because he is barely conscious, and his muscles are thin, his claws blunt. When I crawl through the white sand to his head, he seems to notice me for the first time. His half-shut eye opens just a little bit, and a spark of recognition ignites in it.

"Worm? Is that you?"

His voice is nothing more than a whisper, barely hearable over the rushing of the waves. Compared to him, I guess I am sort of a worm. So that's the name he called me in his head all that time he was looking for us, wrestling through a body of water his body was unfit for. Worm.

"I.. I'm..."

"Is she near?"

I look away in silence. Of course. That is why he's here. For Her. On a lucky hunch, without knowing why, without a plan, without a need for revenge or something like that, without a second thought he made this suicidal journey, because an obsessed mind can only obey Her call and follow.

"Why did you do this?"

"What... what choice did I h..."

That last word ends in a wheezing cough. I understand now that he has not eaten, probably not even slept since the night we snuck out together. What choice did he have? He must have figured out we'd be in another arm of the river, and it would take an eternity to check them all by going upstream. There was only one way. It's gut-wrenching to think of.

"It's like someone took my brain and... held it really tight. It was never about mating. From the moment we met shgghh... she was like this net tied around my mind, the only thing I could ever think of. Can you understand? When you two left... oh... I cursed her so many times... I wish I had never met her... but I have, and now she's the only thing that's really there. The rest of the world is fake." He stops for a moment. His right eye is still pointing at my face, without truly seeing me.

"Worm, can you understand that?"

Yes. Of course I can. I wish I didn't, but yes, I understand it better than anything in the world. I rest my jaw on his neck, wondering how this pitiful creature could ever make me fear. He had no choice. And the obvious, undeniable truth is I would do the same thing in his place. As different as we may appear, we are the same person. I have become him. And soon, I will be what he is now. His eyes are now shut. "Carry me, please." His front paw pushes into the sand, as if he wants to face away from the sea. I understand what he's trying to do: He wants to die in fresh water. I push him the few bodylenghts to the water. I can still taste the ocean in it. The two of us may not be like any other alligators in the world, but still we are alligators like no other. His eyes open one more time. When he sees the trees in the distance, it's like a weight is lifted from his back.

"Thankg... thank you. Please... forgive me.

Then, I feel his last breath escaping and his eyes fall shut.

His body gently bobs on the surface to the rhythm of the crashing waves now. I lie there for a while. I'm looking into the eyes of the only one in the world who is real. The water, the silence, it's all eerily similar to that sunrise so long ago, when She was, as my Big Brother put it, the only thing in the world that was real. In a sort of hellishly ironic way, of course. That morning was so full of promise of a better life. A whispering silence it was, for us to fill in ourselves. This silence is heavy and absolute. She looks at these two bodies, one alive, one dead, of two men who would die for Her without a second thought, whether She would want us to or not. I don't think She intentionally made us like this, became the omnipresent tormentor of our minds, and led us so far astray from our reproductive duty as men. No, She is not evil. She is ignorant. She could never understand Her own power.

"I wish he wouldn't have looked for me. I wish he would have forgotten me and found happiness, I really do. But he didn't. The truth is, he was insane, and of course that was not his fault either, but please don't make me responsible for this!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth before he died. She's pregnant. We mated just a week ago, though it was in no way what I imagined. Before I met Her, mating was all I ever thought about. But it wasn't a thought now, and it hasn't been since. It was an impulse. I wish I could say it just happened, but that would sound like it wasn't my fault. The truth is, when that impulse finally came, I wanted it to happen. And that is the fundamental flaw of any impulse; sometimes you regret getting it afterwards, when there's no changing it anymore.

"I just laid seventeen eggs. I came here to tell you. They're safely in a nest in the bushes."

It feels like getting choked. Like being held underwater by someone infinitely stronger whom you undoubtedly know will never let go. I'm a father now. My infinitely weak genes have been passed onto these innocent creatures. They are most likely destined to my pathetic fate. Those that live to adulthood will one day lose themselves, their identities, all their control over their life to a stranger. It's a horrifying prospect, but honestly, I am unable right now to pity anyone but myself. I have to ask the question I already know the answer to. She has to say it.

"You don't need me anymore?"

"Is that a bad thing? You should be grateful! You're done! They're my responsibility from now on. And even if you said you wanted to stay with them, for some sick reason only you could conjure up or something, I wouldn't let you. That's not how it works. You've done your duty to the species. But that's not enough for you, is it?!"

"No."

She shakes her head in frustration, as if something is stuck to it that needs to go. "I knew it. You're just like that fat moron. You want something from me, but I don't understand what, and I can't give it to you." She sighs. "Why do only the abnormal ones come for me?"

"Because you make us so!" The words burst from my throat like vomit. "We became abnormal when we met you, don't you get it? We try to mate with you just because you look healthy, but then we spend time with you and we... we get hooked, we just can't get enough of... of...

The noose around my neck is getting tighter. I can hardly speak.

"What did you do to me?"

She could never understand.

"I don't know."

Impulses:

Go

Run

She is quiet now. The sun begins to set.

"I never wanted anything from you. I wanted you. "

I whirl around to face the sea, my paws mowing through the dirt faster than ever, until the bottom is too far away to reach. I have to go. If nothing else, to save my soul.

"But I don't understand!" a voice behind me is still shouting. "What on earth is it that you want me to do?"

"I'm sorry!"

I will have no thought or impulse anymore. I will swim. And I will forget. I'm nearly past the surf now, my eyes are starting to sting already, but I feel no pain or weariness.

"What do you... Tell me..."

The rushing of the waves is everywhere. It is the only thing that is real. The calling voice of the river fades with every swing of my tail. Far in the distance, floating in calm open water, there is some kind of log that seems familiar somehow, but I can't remember... it welcomes me, but it's already not real anymore. The water is the only thing that is real now. Even my body is disappearing into the infinite depths beneath me. My mind dissolves. Oh yes, I will forget.

A coiled tail on a sandy bank and muddy grass or grassy mud and a sunrise and dripping and an eye of a demon and my tooth and shining and droplets on a snout that color the sunlight and silence and pressure and arms around my chest and the sky and a fearful night and flickering and the marsh and impulses and an obsession and ignorance and power and lack of understanding and white sand and a beach and claws that are sharp and dull and burning and scales and mating and eggs and the species and thoughts and bushes and streams and a nest and a turtle and the moonlight and voices and a thief and the dirt and the bottom and a fish and jokes and logs and trees and insects and alligators and sounds and smells and mocking looks and a river and a swamp