Easter '13

“This is a bad idea.” I warned, a nervous tingling running down my spine. On the other end of the table Liz’s towering form glanced up from her newspaper, her muzzle tipping slightly in question.

“You think it is a bad idea for me to have a social life?” she asked, her tone cast somewhere between wry incredulity and pouting request.

“I think it is a bad idea for me to be involved in your social life.” I corrected quickly, starting the vast track across the marble countertop. Along my journey I wove through festive household items – dove-shaped candles, recently painted Easter eggs, tiny candy bags –, each several heads taller than myself and all carrying equal emphasis on my stature.

“And why would you say that?” the dragon asked, her eyes pointedly angled away from me and onto an unremarkable section of print. In answer I moved onto her breakfast plate, standing beside one of the small sausages nestled against its edge.

Barely looking, she raised her fork to spear one of the slices; at it was only at the last minute that she realized the utensil’s deadly tines were angled at me.

“Sorry,” she muttered, blushing and scooting me back a safe distance from her meal.

“See?” I demanded, suddenly exasperated. “I’m sort of easy to overlook. I’d hate our relationship to end because someone bangs a knee against an unbalanced table, or sets a glass down in the wrong spot. So I’d certainly hate to put myself in such a dangerous situation.”

“Having friends is dangerous?” she asked, wiping her mouth as she cleaned the rest of her platter. Deliberately she rose and took her dishes to the sink, presumably letting the matter fall.

“Having friends a hundred times my size is dangerous.” I corrected as she resumed her seat, hardly missing a beat. “And while I certainly want you to throw parties… I don’t want to be the centerpiece.”

“You get along well with my family.” She argued, tucking her newspaper away with a resigned sigh. “I don’t think any of them have ‘bumped a knee against the table’ or ‘set a drink down in the wrong place’. I would even say you get along well with most of them – Anna, most ironically, in particular.”

A thousand retorts were silenced by the invisible bonds of a promise. I bit my lip, my mind vividly recalling Liz’s niece hunting and nearly eating me a month or so earlier. Yet it was only through the encountering being “our little secret” that she had allowed me to walk away from it; and so our little secret it stayed.

“There are only a few of them.” I reasoned. “It is easier to keep track of a human in a house of five. It is hard to keep track of a human in a house of fifty.”

“I never said I was inviting fifty people!” she exclaimed, her eyes bulging with emphatic denial and her lip stretching up into an angry pout.

Taking a few dozen strides I cleared the Easter decorations, approaching a long list that lay sprawled against the back half of the table. Unrolling it with a few sound kicks, I began reading aloud the names scrawled in delicate black ink – names that quickly sent me to the edge of the table, forcing me to go silent as they cascaded towards the floor.

“You’re right,” I moaned, noting a bold-faced “fifty-one” half way towards the distant tiles “you aren’t inviting fifty people. There have to be at least half again as many on this list…”

“Not everyone will show up.” She protested, her voice drained and both her will and logic quickly fading.

“So we can estimate fifty.” I returned, stomping from the guest list and back onto the dark marble surface.

“And, in that estimation, we can also multiply the chances of accidents by fifty – more if you include the fact that not everyone cares as much for a ‘rodent’ as you do.”

“Humans aren’t rodents.” Liz growled, her tone forceful as she pushed her muzzle closer to me. Her unrelenting breath fell over me in waves – and, despite our good standing, I was forced to eye the dragon’s fangs with some level of unease.

“Tell that to the wolf in the bar,” I went on bravely, forcing my gaze up into my girlfriend’s own “or the hostess in the restaurant. They didn’t seem to think too highly of a human – most don’t. And – no offense – but I don’t usually think of these stock-holders you call ‘friends’ as the most understanding of people: they hardly respect their employees, nevertheless animals.”

“Humans aren’t animals.” She repeated, her tone unintentionally harsh. The words nearly sent me tumbling across the tabletop; and, even with my remarkable balance, I found myself staggering back a pace or two.

“Not to people like you.” I assured her. “But to the people who are virtually animals themselves… well, who is to say what they think?”

The doorbell chimed in the distance, drawing the stern mask across Liz’s face into one of soft pleading. Her eyes swelled and sparkled in a way only a woman’s could, and her once-snarling lips slipped into a innocent, tiny – unavoidably toothy – grin.

“Your hole isn’t going anywhere.” She promised me, her eyes flickering back to my mouse-like recess in her wall. “And you can always hide if you feel frightened… but, please, give my friends a chance. Talk with my family – Borne and his kids will be here – if it makes you feel more comfortable, but don’t run at the first sign of trouble. Those years, for you, are over.”

Before I could find the strength or wisdom to make a response she turned and headed for the door, leaving my words and fears trapped in my throat. I did look past the dragon’s swaying frame, my eyes falling on my beloved hideaway; but, simultaneously, my eyes fell on the dragon, on the being I loved more than even my own wellbeing.

Taking a deep breath I scampered around the centerpiece, making a comfortable chair at the base of one of its unlit candles. From my semi-obstructed vantage point I watched the first of the guests trickle in – two couples, one of both foxes and the other of two short but muscular dragons.

The four were alone in the kitchen for only a couple of minutes. Quickly others joined them: men and women as diverse as they were plentiful, painting the room into a collage of different furs and scales. Liz’s list seemed more of an appetizer for the party’s hunger as well over a hundred people spread throughout the dragon’s spacious home, changing the scenic and tranquil atmosphere into one of chatter and excitement.

Though Borne’s family did show me the courtesy of saying hello, few paid much attention to me. More than once I heard my name in nearby discussion; and on at least one occasion a group turned towards me in unison, claws pointing amidst mixed messages of laughter and compassionate smiles.

For what may have been an hour – time being relative in such a stressful environment – I sat and patiently surveyed the gathering. When Liz could tear herself away from various circles she would sit and talk to me; though the exchanges were fleeting and, more often than not, ended in longer and longer periods of silence as she was drawn further and further into the Easter celebration.

At length, after she had submerged herself in one such click for nearly fifteen minutes and exhibited no signs of doing otherwise, I realized I had had my fill of the party. Pushing myself from my seat I pushed across the table, careful to avoid the hands and glasses that rested atop it.

Reaching the counter’s edge I grabbed hold of my faithful rope, giving it a reassuring tug before, its firm cords in hand, I repelled down the cabinet’s face.

Despite my stature, my descend seemed to draw the noise from several of the room’s conversations. I felt a dozen eyes on me, watching my movements carefully; but they nevertheless kept me from feeling safe along the tiles, my mind whispering the warnings of careless feet and unwarranted spills.

Wasting little time I sprinted across the kitchen floor, darting around the legs of tables and chairs where I could to avoid putting my body in the open. At least once a foot fell mere feet from me – and, though my alarmed stare was typically met with a reassuring gesture or promise that the foot’s owner “could see me, and wouldn’t step on me”, it only served to reaffirm my belief that my life, more so than any point previously, was in danger.

As my feet entered the homestretch, the last few dozen meters to the waiting arms of my hole, I began to relax. I slowed nearly to a walk, catching my breath as the slight gap in the wall grew ever wider; and my demeanor and growing hope proved only to make my defeat all the more painful.

Less than ten strides from the wall a great barrier blocked my path, slamming to the earth in front of me like a castle gate. I staggered back a step or two, momentarily taken aback – never before had the falling feet been such a close call, and never before had they been so unexpected.

Following the leg up to its source, I found myself looking into the eyes of a wolf, her mouth stretched into a sneer grin as her fingers drummed along the edges of a wine glass.

“Well, well, well,” she cooed, stooping down towards me. Her claws closed around my waist and lifted me skyward despite my immediate protests, depositing me in a jolt into her palm.

“This must be Liz’s ‘little’ boyfriend.” She remarked, drawing the attention of a small circle – a crocodile, a cheetah, and a sickly thin hyena – that stood in hushed conversation nearby. Suddenly eight eyes bore into me; and, more so than any other point that evening, I felt like a caged animal.

“I don’t take up much space,” I returned shakily “but I can do what I can to get out of your way, if you’ll just put me down…”

The group pressed closer to the wolf’s silver palm, a jumbled mix of sneering lips and bared teeth. Their fetid breath washed over me; but, unlike my girlfriend’s own earlier that day, their ire was not born of my own self-defacement.

“There’s no rush.” My captor assured me. “Stay awhile – enjoy the atmosphere.”

“I’m not really the party-type.” I said quickly, shaking my head as I attempted to back away from her wicked smile. My feet brushed the edge of her palm, my heels careening into the void beyond; and there, caught between the mouth of a monster and the side of a mountain, I was forced to make my stand.

“Nonsense,” she insisted. “Everyone has a bit of party in them… even Liz, it seems.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, suddenly suspicious.

“Well… she has always loved trying new things. Dating one of your kind? Well… it may be fun now, but eventually she’ll feel tied to you, encumbered by you. You’ll be a burden when it isn’t new and exciting to have a ‘little’ boyfriend… and I’d hate for her to have to endure that.”

“And what is your solution?” I asked, regretting the question. As soon as the words left my lips the wolf’s own opened, blowing a puff of warm breath towards me.

“Actions speak louder than words.” She said with a slight giggle. To my growing horror she titled her palm back, slowly letting gravity push me towards her parted jaws.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The words sent hope rushing through me, my body twisting around the wolf’s fingers to get a better look at the speaker. My hopes of Liz rushing to my rescue were dashed; instead Anna, alone and small amid the crowd.

“Getting a snack?” the wolf returned, eyeing the cat with an air of annoyance.

“You do realize that is my uncle, right?”

“Really?” the wolf asked, the question hardly one of genuine interest. Nevertheless she flattened her palm, giving me the opportunity to desperately search for an alternative escape than her waiting teeth.

“Not by blood, I assume?” the canine went on, drawing a thin chuckle from her circle.

“No,” the snow leopard snapped, the word flustered and timid.

“Still,” she pressed “I won’t let you hurt him.”

“Oh, you won’t?” the wolf asked, her voice hardly masking her incredulity as she turned fully to face the defiant cat.

“And what will you do to stop me, exactly?”

The question seemed to stun my savior and she glanced down at her feet, suddenly at a loss for words. Yet, as she looked back towards my captor, her demeanor changed – and, in the brief instant she met my eyes, I saw something cold and hard inside their bright depths.

“Stop you?” she asked. “Stop you from doing what I’ve been trying to do for nearly a year now? You’re saving Liz from a lifetime of obligation – I just want to help. After all… I have a lot more invested in this fight than you, so I should be the one to end it.”

She reached out her hand; and, as she did, I immediately clung to the wolf’s palm. Nevertheless, the canine evidently reasoned that Anna’s argument had merit; and so, with a grin, she slapped me into the feline’s fingers.

“Well,” she said, gesturing towards the cat expectantly as her friends surrounded the girl “we’re waiting.”

Anna looked down to me – her eyes, for the briefest of instances, flickering apologetically. Then she tilted her head back and passed me between her open lips, not a single word of regret flowing around me as I rolled across her tongue.

My journey was quick and uninhibited. Never once did I graze her fangs; never once did she stop to taste me, or simply toy with me. In less than a second I moved from her maw to her throat; and, in a flash of realization, I realized I was being swallowed.

Flesh pressed in on my from every angle as I moved steadily downward, my body thrashing about desperately as I sought traction or reprieve from my descent into madness. Words finally slipped around me – though so great and echoing were the syllables that I hardly managed to make them out.

At length my trip ended, my organic tunnel depositing me somewhere beyond. I splashed into a pool of fowl liquid, its depths forcing me to treat the thick solution as my feet frantically sought solid ground. I could feel Anna moving around me – she was walking, that much was certain, but her stomach also writhed and churned, shifting me about in its deadly embrace.

Just as my skin began to burn I lost the will to fight and slumped weakly against one wall, my body slowly sinking into the abyss. It was only then that my prison squirmed violently, yanking my fading mind back to reality.

At first the leopard’s belly seemed to compress and lurch, making me wonder just how quick and painful my end would be. But then the compression repeated itself, more violently; and, at length, I felt myself slipping from the acidic cavern.

My journey – one that had taken me nearly a minute to complete on the downward track – repeated itself in under five seconds, sending me back between parted fangs and into fresh air. I coughed and sputtered as I felt the plastic lining of a garbage can all around me – then nearly gagged myself as I realized I was submerged, waist deep, in vomit.

“I’m not dead.” I whispered, more to myself than anything.

“You’re not dead.” Anna’s voice agreed. I turned to her, looking into her paling face – but, more importantly, into her caring eyes.

“Because of you…” I managed, a smile twitching into the corners of my mouth.

“Thanks…”

“No problem,” she managed, reaching down to pull me from the fetid mire. Moving to the bathroom sink she washed the bile from my skin and smoothed my hair, drying me before helping me atop her shoulder.

We emerged back into the undaunted party moments later, both working hard to hide our close-encounter with the reaper. The sinister circle had, by then, moved on from my hole; and, quickly, the cat slipped me inside, hiding me from future claws and fangs.

There, in darkness, I hid until the last tail slipped through Liz’s front door. Only then did I emerge, pushing aside any notions my girlfriend would feed me about her party being “absolutely wonderful.”

As Anna had assured me such a short time before, her hunt was not necessarily the last time she would eat me. For the first time in my life, I had known the terror of being inside the stomach of another creature; and yet, at the same time, I had also recognized the lengths to which my newfound family would go to ensure my survival in their world.

And it was in that regard that I could honestly say that, on that day, I declared it a very Happy Easter.