A Maw That Stood

When scraping boats dash my snout carelessly, I wonder if they have heard the tale of one even my kin fear. We growl, push, and sometimes even leap up in grand imitation of the Maw That Stands.

Once, on the darkest night when mounds were best for hiding, I saw a lone boat and quietly watched.

Dip,

dip,

went the man and I know not why they come.

I only know the tall shape that looks the same as scaly swimmers and walks as well as man. It eats all that is flesh, scales or no.

The man went dip, dip, and some were more angry and foolish.

They surrounded the boat and

growled, bumping and jumping.

I stayed back and watched as crashing sounds announced the Maw That Stands.

In few claw strokes he swiped at the knot of them and none survived.

I have heard that by their fire beast, Men will tell their young this tale differently, and none know why the Maw That Stands only took his fill of the scaled swimmers, letting the man quickly escape in his boat.

I only know he turned his glowing green eye right where I lay.

Then walked away.