Snake Eyes

Blini Rickett and Puff Wiggery shared a smallholding— most of us had our own crops and stock back then because we had so little in the way of money—on which they’d each built a home for their wives and children. Their plan had been to pool resources to create surplus crops they could sell, but their partnership never bore the kind of fruits they hoped for.

My property, tiny by comparison but more fruitful owing to intelligent planting and maintenance, bordered theirs and I spent happy hours watching them toil, sweat and debate farm management. On that particular morning, the sun already drawing beads of moisture on my forehead, I sat on my porch sipping a cool cup of goat’s milk from the cellar and casting an occasional glance their way so as not to miss any entertainment.

I saw the shape in the sky and what it became long before they did. It appeared first as streaks of pure white cloud high above us. I waited and hoped for the cloud to swirl and grow darker; we all needed rain. It soon became clear however, that this was no rain cloud. The streaks took on a shape, parts of them becoming familiar to me. Here an unfolded wing, here a curving femur, there a rudimentary tail. I’d cloud-watched a thousand hours away as a boy, pushing my imagination farther and farther into unknown territory, but this was different. I didn’t have to try to form an image from those vapours; they took the unmistakable shape of a demon.

The cloud gained mass and definition. The demon was on its back; its doglike hindquarters drawn up to its belly and its tail flailing upwards between its legs. Its wings were unfurled; the delicate structure of hollow bones that spread them open was easy to see, as were the bones of its legs and crooked arms. Because it was on its back though, the wings were controlled by the wind, not the other way around.

It looked like the cloud demon was falling.

As soon as I had the thought, the cloud turned red. There was a brief dimming of the sun, a welcome chill that was gone before I could appreciate it, and the red cloud became solid. The demon hurtled earthward. Realising I was witnessing possibly the most interesting event of the year, I stood up still holding my goat’s milk and would have shouted to Rickett and Wiggery if I hadn’t been enjoying the anticipation of the looks on their faces when the thing hit the ground. It was headed straight for them.

Instead I watched the demon fall. It was strange, the cloud had been huge in the sky and very high up, but now, as the creature neared us, it got smaller. Gauging its size under such illogical circumstances was impossible. It trailed the faintest wake of steam or smoke and the air around us took on an odour of noxious defilement.

Rickett and Wiggery were arguing as usual when the plummeting creature struck earth. It hit with such force that the ground jumped. As I heard the hiss and ear flattening whump of the impact, I spilt a little goat’s milk and cursed. A wave of dust rolled outward from the crash site and through it I saw Rickett and Wiggery trying to stand up; the air blast had thrown them back several strides. Their faces were dark with dust, their eyes wide and white by contrast. They blinked and coughed and held their ribs. The wind had gone from their chests and for once they weren’t haranguing each other. I took my drink with me as I stepped out of the back gate and strode over to the crater.

By the time I arrived, they were standing at the edge of a concave depression that had obliterated a substantial circle of sickly, wilted cabbages. Both of them had limp shreds of greenery hanging from their hair and clothes and it was hard to tell them apart.

“That’s a strange looking fertiliser, boys,” said I.

“It’s nary fertiliser,” said Blini Rickett pointing a trembling finger into the fresh pit. “That be Armageddon.”

Puff Wiggery shook his head.

“T’aint so, Rickett, you pheasant-brained muckit. That there’s a female gryphon.”

Several other villagers gathered at the crash site and more were on their way, trampling what was left of Rickett and Wiggery’s ill-conceived crops. Heads bobbed up and down and side to side to see the cause of the crater. When people got too close and started to slip down the gentle slope towards the demon, they panicked, fell over and scrambled on their hands and knees back to the safety of the crowd.

There were murmurs and whispers and the facts about the new arrival were swiftly distorted from wrong to ridiculous. Fortunately, not everyone in the village was devoid of the light of intelligence and education. I stepped forward and took a deep breath so that my voice would reach everyone present. But it was someone else that spoke first to the inhabitants of Long Lofting that day. I missed my chance by a fraction of a moment.

“Villagers, please. Quiet down now, there’s no reason to be frit.”