Mama always say, "If you hear nuffin', dat means sumthin'."
Da Wilds was loud. It was always loud. Bugs hummed. Leaves rustled. Da river babbled on like it got secrets. Even Grizz made lil' scratchy noises when he twitched his tail.
So when da night went quiet—
We knew.
Sumthin' was out dere.
Rusty was da first to freeze.
Which was weird. Cuz Rusty don' freeze. Rusty don' stop movin' ever unless he sleepin' or Mama bonked him.
But dat night, he was sittin' outside da burrow, starin' into da dark, ears twitchin'.
Mama stepped up beside him, whiskers twitchin' too.
"Squeak?" ("What?")
Rusty didn' look away. "Sweek." ("Sumthin' out dere.")
Mama sniffed. Nuffin'. Listened. Nuffin'.
But sumthin' in Rusty's face made her fur prickle.
Grizz stepped up behind 'em. His tail flicked. "Ssssqueak." ("We ain't alone.")
Den, in da distance—
A sound.
Soft. Slow. Almost like a whisper.
A voice.
"Hooooo, little squeakers…"
My blood went cold.
Dat voice wasn' loud. Wasn' angry. Wasn' shoutin'.
It was soft.
Playful.
Like da sound a cat makes when it finds sumthin' small an' squirmy—sumthin' it don' wanna eat right away.
Mama's breath hitched. "Squeak." ("Inside. Now.")
We ran.
We hid in da burrow. Curled up in da dark, holdin' our breath.
Waitin'.
Listenin'.
Da Wilds stayed silent.
No bugs. No river. No wind.
Den—
Soft pawsteps.
Close.
Too close.
A whisper.
"Oh, come now… don't be shy… I only want to talk."
Rusty gripped da flashlight tighter. Mama's claws dug into da dirt.
Den—da scratch.
Right at da entrance.
Slow. Deliberate.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
Like claws draggin' over da earth.
Like a game.
Like it wanted us to hear.
Da scratchin' stopped.
Silence.
Nuffin'.
Just when I thought maybe, da stabby-fluffy left—
A shadow moved.
I ain't never seen a shadow move like dat. It didn' flicker. Didn' shift. Didn' flow like leaves in da wind.
It crawled.
Like it was stretchin'.
Like it knew we was watchin'.
Den—
Two glowy green eyes opened.
An' da smile.
Wide. Sharp. Full of teeth.
Den da whisper came again.
"Boo."
Rusty screamed."SWEEEEEK!" ("DA SHADOW GOT TEETH!")
Da stabby-fluffy laughed.
A low, purry sound. Not happy. Not mad. Just… patient.
"Oh, I like you," it murmured. "You're funny."
Mama moved first. She grabbed a rock, chucked it at da entrance.
It hit da dirt.
Da eyes didn' blink. Didn' flinch.
Just watched.
Waited.
Den—da whisper again.
"I remember you."
Mama froze.
Da stabby-fluffy's tail flicked.
"Little squeaker from the tunnels. You ran, didn't you? Left them all behind. Left them to die."
My breath caught.
Mama's whole body went stiff.
Den she lunged.
"SQUEEEAK!" ("SHUT UP!")
She swung. Claws out. Ready to fight.
But da stabby-fluffy?
It was already gone.
Da Wilds came back slow.
First, da wind. Den, da river. Den, da bugs hummin' like nuffin' happened.
But we knew.
Mama knew.
Cuz da stabby-fluffies?
Dey didn' forget.
Dey was watchin'.