Hungry, Hungry, Hungry

The Forest of Mirkwood, March 13-15 3019

Hungry, hungry hungry. Nothing to eat, just darkness, here in the south. Flesh, he promised. Flesh, in the north. Hard to walk, hungry, hungry, hungry. Dense barked trees, dark the ground. So hungry, hungry, hungry.

Trees, trees, only trees, here in the central forest. Hungry, hungry, hungry. I hear my sisters mutter in time as we scuttle endlessly in the branches and bracken.

Its brighter here in the north. Every lens can see more. The forest is more open, all my legs can move freely. Faster, faster we move, my sisters and I, some on the ground, some weaving in the high branches. They cannot stop us! We are their ancient fears come to life. Our great-mother stole their light and they were afraid. We kill, we eat: we won’t be hungry, hungry, hungry.