Yar-har, Fiddle-dee-eep!

She’d made it as far as the Bifrost, and stood, gazing out to sea, thinking. Eventually, she turned and padded slowly along the sand, nearly blending in against the shimmering white stuff as she made her way to the spot she and Amos had found that strange log at. They hadn’t made much headway in getting the thing moved out, and its dark, strangely shaped wood stuck out of the sand, much of the hole filled in by high tides.

She bent to node at the thing, still wondering at the look of it. It was about then that the wind picked up, and the sky began to darken with ominous clouds. That wasn’t scary or odd in itself, other than the fact that it happened so fast. What she found strange was the heavy, blinding fog that roiled in just behind the storm front. IN twenty minutes, she couldn’t see more than three feet ahead of her, save for brief glimpses as the fog gapped.

It was in one of those glimpses that her fur bristled as she saw a strange, hulking shape out on the water. It was, at first, too far to see. But each time the fog blinded her again, it was closer, and bigger, gliding on the sea, tossed by the waves.

She found herself taking several steps back, each time the thing crept closer. She wasn’t a coward by any means, but this wasn’t a normal day, and rain had begun to pelt her back—no, hail. Ow.

She became thoroughly turned around as she sought to rush back to cover, and suddenly, she realized, as the fog gapped again, that she’d run south instead of north. And that black shape was closer. And bigger. Her coat, had it not been soaked through with rain and hail, would have been sticking out in all directions from alarm as the thing loomed over her, borne by the waves now crashing against the land-strip.

There was a crash and she scrambled full pelt, northward again, before she stopped and spun to face the thing again—the same courage that got her in trouble with the bear.

The thing was beached, like the giant sea mammal, upon the beach, rocked to its side and less frightening than it had been at first, so she approached it, bristling any time there was the slightest hint of danger. There was a lot of flapping things, like great wings, coming from its back on great spines. And from deep within, it emitted deep, tree-like creaks and groans, as if mortally wounded.

She finally got close enough to reach out with a paw and poke it, before leaping back. It didn’t lash out or react at all, so she crept closer and sniffed it. Wood.

For a moment, she felt rather silly. But the mystery still remained as to what this giant thing was. It was too… strange, to be a tree, and she’d never seen a tree with things like that on it. So she circled around, still a bit wary, but growing slightly braver.

The thing had, by then, been tossed and rolled onto its side entirely, and she saw that it had a very flat back, and that the wings were like… hides. But not from any animal she’d seen. There was a strange hump toward its back end, with many eyes that gleamed, or were shattered like shards of ice, revealing darkness and shrouded shapes behind. It was these that she approached next and peered into, eventually getting close enough to leap her front end up to really look inside.

It was a strange glimpse of the past, of another world, another time. It was like a den, she decided. And it was eerie. The smells were of sea brine, primarily, and wood, and so many stale, strange other things that she couldn’t begin to describe. But she was curious.

Curious enough to hop all the way into the shell of a den on a giant tree… thing. It took precarious balancing, especially when a strong wave outside rocked the whole thing and sent her tumbling to a slanted den floor as the vessel was righted slightly. She pressed onward, fur bristling out at the creaking and groaning that was now around her.

At the back of the den was a rectangular passage, leading to darkness, and her ears perked as she was reminded of the cave at home, with its passages and alcoves. Was this a… floating cave? Made of wood? She pressed on into the passage, tumbling again as the storm outside sent the den rolling. A yelp escaped as she landed on her still-healing shoulder before she could right herself on was had been the wall of the passage but was now a strange path downward. Steps, like just outside the mouth of the den at home.

She knew steps, so even though she was rapidly beginning to worry that she’d gotten herself into another scrape she might die in, she pushed on, nose questing. It was dark, very dark, but as her eyes adjusted, especially when she reached a passage with alcoves on either side, she was a little more comfortable. She was almost used to the rocking sensation the floor beneath her paws was doing.

And then she forgot all about exploring this mysterious thing, because it suddenly gave a strange, swelling buck under her paws. And then another. And another. And she felt as though she would never keep a grip on the floor, which she realized in the back of her mind was wood as well, and as is she was moving without taking a step.

She spun on her haunches, deciding she didn’t want to explore any deeper, and raced, limping on her sore side, for the way she’d come. A scramble up the steps into the first den, and she was aware of an openness. The eyes were all level, except for that dreadful picthing and bucking beneath her paws, and a rectangular passage that she hadn’t noted before lay open, leading to a now level back.

She raced out onto the deck and skidded to a stop in shock, and then terror. She was so sure she’d gotten on this thing on solid land. Where was the land?!

She spun each direction, eyes seeking, and saw, with a shock, that the Bifrost was well over four-hundred feet away, and she was on a thing in the sea, going away from it.

She had had enough, and the next move she took was either the stupidest or the smartest decision she made of the whole adventure. She jumped from the back of the thing, crashing into the water and thankfully coming back up a few seconds of frantic kicking later.

It was a very bedraggled, exhausted Spirit of Valhalla that dragged herself to shore ten minutes of desperate swimming later. And when she turned her head to stare out after the would-be kidnapper… the mist had swallowed the ship completely. And good riddance.

She struggled to her paws and beat a retreat – a slow one – toward home.

Word count, over 1k

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think