“The river lost.”
A Mirewater reptile of The River Tyrants
3 known connections · an open question
She built her first nest mound in a flood year, when the old grounds washed out, and engineered it — drainage, height, sun — so perfectly that not one egg was lost. Bayou studied her specs. Basker certified the thermals. She just calls it "mothering."
She carries her hatchlings to the water in her jaws — eighty teeth, infinite gentleness, the most delicate operation in the reptile world. She has done it four hundred times. Her jaws have never trembled. Her heart, she admits, always does.
She runs the crèche — the guarded nursery pool where the Tyrants’ young learn the water under her watch. Graduation is the first solo swim. She watches every one. She cries at every one. The fortress commander weeps. The babies swim.
“Nanny counts her hatchlings every dusk. Last week she counted one extra — a small shape at the edge of the crèche, there and gone. Gummy says it was just a shadow. Nanny has stopped counting out loud. She counts on her claws now, where no one can hear.”
Nanny counted one extra.
The river tyrants: crocodiles, alligators, caimans, gharials — the ambush perfected over eighty million years. Fifteen smiles, every one of them full of teeth.
$15 · One of 150
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