It was done. The shelter was ready.
Already the sun had descended from the sky, allowing the dark cloak of the night to take over. The usual sounds that echoed throughout the jungle had died down in favour of the faint, alien calls of nocturnal wanderers. While the birds retreated to their nests, bats and moths emerged from theirs to fill the skies. For almost every predator that lived this was the cue to retreat and rest, to hide away, regain strength for when morning returns.
Grendel was no different. It had taken him a good while, but he managed to dig a burrow in which to spend the night, carved between the massive roots of an even more humongous tree. Spacious and sturdy, with the bottom carpeted with leaves he had collected himself and stomped to make sure no vermin would emerge. Probably this was unnecessary; Grendel had long since abandoned the phase where he was most vulnerable, and with his immense size not many creatures in their right mind would want to attack him. But this wasn’t just out of tradition. If there was one thing the squamataur had learned, it was that you were never completely safe in this world
And perhaps because of that alertness it was difficult for Grendel to actually fall asleep. He kept rolling around, changing his position, sometimes leaving his head out, sometimes his tail instead. He’d try keeping his eyes closed and stay as still as he could get, but the release he so desired would not come. Time seemed to slow down in the quiet dark, and this only made him feel more restless. When would he have one night he could sleep all the way through?
He soon noticed something felt off. The sounds outside weren’t those he would usually hear at that time. In fact they seemed to have some sort of beat to them. There was soft murmuring, shouting, laughing. Odd hues of light flickered on the edge of the burrow-mouth. As cautiously as ever the squamataur twisted around in his den and poked his face outside, ready for anything
Fairies…of course. A whole village of them was in the top of another giant tree, and they were immersed in some sort of big celebration. Males and females, young and old, clothed or naked, all could be seen up there, illuminated by fireflies and crude lanterns and dazzling spheres of light. Some were gorging themselves on steaming platefuls of colourful food. Others were dancing in frenzied spinning groups. Some more played endlessly with the strangest instruments one could imagine. And yet others just sat on the sidelines, clapping and laughing and drinking. Definitely they were having fun.
Then many others came in, carrying with them even stranger things. Marionettes, large and floppy constructs of cloth and hide that appeared to be shaped after tauric predators. Bunches of fairies were holding and lifting them with long sticks, parading around in an-all out mockery. They even went as far as having the puppets “swallow” those that stopped to watch them. The laughter and applause only increased. Bunch of show offs.
But this was far from done. Barrel-things of all imaginable sizes were brought as every song and dance was suddenly being silenced. The scent of tension lingered in the very air. And then before the eyes of everyone, the fireworks were released.
It was admittedly breathtaking. Dozens of fleeting sparks and lights, screeching and shooting up to the sky before exploding in arrays of impossible colours. It was like the very stars were displaying their power for all to see. Not two of those explosions were the same, and each was more dazzling and complex than the previous one. It was wild, it was amazing, and the fairies loved every second of it, cheering and whistling at such a show.
The largest barrel of all was then opened, and something truly impossible came into view. What rose this time weren’t fireworks, but what seemed like hundreds of feminine figures, all made of sparkling white energy. They were spreading all over the area, and everywhere one looked they would be found dancing and twirling and darting and performing the most impressive of feats. Was this some product of magic?
Grendel was watching the whole thing, his body stiff as a rock and particularly amazed by the sight. It came as an even bigger surprise when he noticed one of those energy dancers had stopped right next to him
In a second he backed away, raised his arm to swat the thing, but there was no need to. The figure simply hovered around him, spinning at the mouth of the shelter and giving this oh-so-graceful dance. She was pretty small, perhaps not much taller than a finger of the squamataur, but it was surprisingly detailed, the tiniest of smiles in its gleaming white face.
Then suddenly, before he could react quickly enough, it flew right to his face and gave a sort of “kiss” on the tip of his nose. It stung just a bit, like static electricity
The figure right away gave a little reverence to the squamataur, and as fast as it had arrived it was darting away, returning to the party. And not just that one, but all the energy-dancers were coming back, gathering above the fairies in a great glittering cloud. A white flash and it had exploded, expanding waves of ephemeral sparkles that rained down the tree. The crowd went wild in that very instant.
And at that point Grendel decided he had seen enough. Quietly he retreated back into the depths of his burrow, letting out a soft groan, and then curled up in a tight ball, hoping he’d get comfy enough to rest already.
Let those jokers play as much as they want, he thought. When something creeps in and eats them all they’ll be sorry enough. Yeah, a true predator like him knows how things work here.
Still….that looked kind of fun…
Subject: Party 
Sat Mar 19, 2011 9:59 am
