Birdwatching

The rain floated down in curtains, swept on the breeze like sheets of spider web. Tiny drops of water tapped softly on the leaves, collecting in rivulets and trickling down the trees of Finwold Edge. Overhead, dark clouds could be seen getting darker through the gaps between the branches. Neil didn't mind the weather.

He didn't sniff as the rain dripped from the end of his nose.

He didn't shiver as the cold water soaked him to the bone.

Neil was a swamp monster, and he was bird watching.

His foliage rustled in the wind, but the rest of him remained still, wooden. A tiny wren hopped happily up to him, completely unafraid. Neil wasn't dangerous; he wasn't human. Neil was vegetation. He was the soil and the leaves. He was Finwold Edge itself.

Slowly, carefully, and very deliberately, Neil cupped his mossy hands beneath the wren and scooped it up, holding it up to his face. It pecked him affectionately.

The swamp monster knew every creature in the Edge, from the largest boar to the smallest snail, but the birds were his favourite. As magnificent as the foxes were, as fascinating as the bees could be, Neil was never as happy as he was when bird watching. Somewhere in the folds of his bark he kept a field-guide, water-stained and dog-eared. It had been a long time since Neil was human. The tattered field-guide was all that remained.

A figure appeared on the crest of the hill. A demon hunter.

The wren chirruped a warning at Neil and fluttered quickly away, weaving through a series of bushes to dodge the rain. The swamp monster watched as the demon hunter approached, water sluicing from his umbrella as he picked his way through the undergrowth, at one point accidentally stepping in a puddle.

Neil looked up at the man as he approached. “Dirk,” he said, nodding in recognition.

Dirk sat down on a fallen tree next to him and produced a thermos, unscrewing the lid, taking a swig, and handing it over. “Thought you could use some coffee,” he said, his breath steaming in the air.

“Thanks,” said Neil, taking it gratefully. He wasn't human anymore, but he liked coffee. It tasted earthy.

“Sorry I scared your buddy away. I'm usually stealthier.” Dirk pulled his shoe off with a disgusting sucking sound. Muddy water poured out.

“It's okay. Shouldn't you be slaying monsters at this time of day?”

Dirk shrugged. “Who knows? Since the Psychic department got shut down things have been a mess. Oh, that reminds me...” He pulled a fortune cookie from his breast pocket and snapped it in two.

“That's what they replaced your psychics with?” asked Neil, shaking his head disdainfully.

“I know right?” Dirk read his fortune. “You need to buy a... new pair of shoes. Huh.”

Neil handed the coffee back.