Zagneth
The redwoods weaved in a majestic swirl as I hopped over one branch and landed on another. This tree was unlike any other. The others were tall, stretching towards the vast depths of the ever changing canvas known as the sky. At this moment, the world above was painted a dirty orange, suggesting that it was close to turning nightfall. A faint scratch caught my attention as I lunged into an opening on the forest floor. I finally had time to sit for a minute and inspect it. Nothing serious, I thought. But I should not have worn shorts, I noticed as I tapped the scratch lightly.
Coming into view behind the twisted tree was Collin, his shoulders strangely configured in an effort to squirm through the small opening between the trunks of the tree. He looked as if a cat, squeezing between fence posts. The broadness of his shoulders gave off an image of an earlier childhood toy: don't put the square peg in a round hole, I thought to myself. Feeling a little uncomfortable that I put him in such a tight spot, I ran forward to help him.
“Give me your bow first,” I suggested, holding out my hand through the thick branches.
“Good idea,” he said, his voice a little compressed from the Tree's pressure on his lungs. He handed me his bow as I placed mine on the ground to give myself a free hand. Without the clutter of his bow, he was finally able to escape the wooden prison, laughing as he stumbled forward. I laughed too as I handed him back his bow, then planted a kiss on his neck. We were no longer shaded from the thick timbers of the trees, therefore viewing the sky was easier than before. We had not noticed the darkness creeping in.
“It's getting dark,” he realized. I agreed as I pulled a flashlight from my pocket. Throwing it to him, I picked up my own bow and decided that it was finally time to start home. Our knives clanked against our belt as we walked between brushes, crunching them lightly as we tread softly through the wild. I put my hand on my side to soften the sound as we began to talk.
“It would be amazing to see a mountain lion right now, wouldn't it?” I proposed.
“It would be something, Chey. A great story to tell, I'm sure,” he chuckled. Several minutes had passed before we heard any other distinct sounds besides our own. The sunset turned into an early evening before we knew it. My eyes, which had trouble adjusting to the dark, looked only towards the ground due to the fear of tripping. Collin was a step ahead, the flashlight before him. A rustle through a brush had jerked my attention away from the forest floor. I shivered, automatically thinking that it was the wind that could have made such a noise. But when it continued, I turned to look at Collin. He seemed to notice it too. He stayed silent for a minute before a large figure emerged from the bushes. It was engulfed in the dark, breathing slightly, hunched perhaps. Collin put his hand on the small of my back and turned the flashlight on the figure.
It's ears were perked, eyes strained, as if the light caused it some sort of anxiety. Perhaps it was the fact that he had been caught after supper. His furry snout was drenched in clots of blood, hanging lightly from his fierce, yet tentative jaws. A full figured mountain lion stood before us, trapped in the spotlight as if he were a stage performer completely caught off guard. His shy stance gave off the impression that he was caught eating a cookie from the jar.
“KITTY!” Collin laughed as he noticed the figure. I too chuckled, but only at Collin's easiness and careless observation. It relaxed me to know that he was not worried. The figure had startled me, yes, but I felt a little less weary now that I've known it had already eaten...the poor creature. The mountain lion, not understanding why we were so interested in him, looked confused and annoyed as if thinking, “What the hell are you looking at?”. When we did not leave and continued to ogle the beast, the mountain lion, neglecting us as annoying creatures, began to slink into a neighboring brush and out of sight.
Collin and I exchanged hurried quips about that “bad ol' putty tat” as if he were not a carnivorous beast, but a mere housecat. We continued on our way, talking about the mountain lion with extreme vigor and animation as we made up stories about it's origin, legend, and mystery. This led to many extreme discussions about ghost stories and other strange occurrences according to age old tales. We kept walking forward, the flashlight's steady beam as our only light.
“Zagneth...” I muttered just as airy as the wind.
“What?” he questioned. “What did you say?”
“Zagneth... the mountain lion,” I grinned. “I've decided that he is more than a mountain lion. He has to be something more. I bet he is a monster that takes ideas—puts his own in your mind!”
“That sounds like Jeepers Creepers, you know? Taking something outta you.”
“No. It's not like Jeepers Creepers at all! He takes your mind, not your body. A mind is different. More precious, I think...” I concluded.
“So he puts his own ideas where ours used to be?” Collin asked.
“Exactly!”
For the first time, Collin had slowed to a halt. He kept his flashlight ahead, but he looked around as if in a nervous twitch. I had no idea why he had stopped, therefore it was important to ask if everything was alright. He said he could feel Zagneth's presence. Then he put the flashlight under his chin and concocted a spooky face. “What if he is here with us now? What if he is taking over your mind, Chey!” he laughed as he grabbed me in a tight squeeze.
“Oh, please,” I smiled. “You're crazy.”
“Am I, Chey? Or did the Zagneth try to tell you that?”
“Zagneth didn't say anything, Collin!”
“Maybe that mountain lion was the real Zagneth. Wouldn't it be funny to think so?” His smile, twisted almost grotesquely under that light, began to reminded me of the Cheshire cat. Too many feline stories, I thought to myself.
“But Zagneth isn't real,” I retorted. “I made it up.”
Collin didn't look convinced at my retaliation. He continued to poke fun with me, slightly laughing as he did so.
“Did you?”
“Yes! I did!” I grinned as I pushed him away. I didn't want to show my fear. I tried to play it off.
“Perhaps you didn't. Perhaps he put that theory in your head...” Collin trailed off in a slightly seductive, unnerving tone. The forest felt as if it was creeping upon me, oozing within the very contents of my soul. Gradually, it started to feel as if bugs were crawling in my ears, making their way to my brain to devour it's contents, or to screw them up in a delicious frenzy in order to make the Zagneth powerful. I wanted to get out! I needed to get out! When I began shoving his hands away from me, he began to chuckle and admit that he was starting to get scared as well. Pulling our knives out of our sheaths, we walked to the car a little faster.
Though we continued to joke about the mountain lion in earnest attempts at fun, I have to admit that the gradual fall of unconsciousness did not come to me as easily that night. Lying awake well into the early hours of the mornig, I cringed at the very thought of the mountain lion. Of course, it was not for the obvious reason that most people would be frightened of such a scary find. It was the unrealistic qualities that I was afraid of; the qualities of Zagneth.
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