I left the drifting boat by the misty
shoreline. With sunset my fear and self-doubt
once more returned. Then the call: part-baby,
part-cat, drifts to me. She is up, about,
hunting. In the wild expanse the dim sky
is low over the dank treetops. “Monster,”
she called me. Now her terrible blood-cry
comes once more, mixed with a scream of terror.

Something is dying out there in the dark.

But me? Monster? She should know. She hunts them.

Mists shift. The moon hangs down. I am not safe
here on the shore. I give my high yip-bark.
She knows that I’m now part of the mayhem.

I’m her monster: sweet morsel, tasty waif.