The winged creature fluttered lightly over the floor of the small valley – diving, lifting, diving again – testing the suspected food below. Standing over this morsel, proud cliffs stretched up into the shadows above, the tops peering down on him. One wall to the south was sheer and smooth and served as an unscalable backdrop for the squat, box-like formations at its base. Some of these mesas were plain and slick like the wall they fronted, sitting like old Indian shaman cocooned in their blankets; others, more strangely shaped, were draped with delicate, multi-colored traceries on their tops and sides. The opposing cliff was heavily scarred with long, horizontal ledges: deep recesses yielding ominous black shadows.

The floor of the valley lay flat and wide, resembling a primeval, dried river bed, the color of rust during the daytime sun; but now a gibbous moon peeked silently over the low west wall. It casted a lonely pallor on everything it touched. The incoming light was escorted by a muffled, droning sound: the combined clicks and whistles of thousands of distant beings claiming their territories just beyond the west canyon wall.

Tasty fragrances on a warm breeze first attracted the winged creature to this part of the valley. The rhythmic motion and the large spots on his wingbacks earned him the name Blinker by the other flying creatures. He had no claws or fangs to defend himself; no shriek to scare, nor foul odor to disgust a hunter; no venom to poison. Nature provided his genus only with the subtle defense of deception – the illusion of size and ferocity. The Maker-Of-All-Things designed the wing-spots to convince a predator that he was confronting a much larger prey.

Evolution made Blinker’s species noctuids – awakening at the end of each daytime hibernation to forage for food. The solar day with its hot winds, its glaring sun and its marauding hordes brought the constant threat of death. Ironically, the only safe time of the day was when the sun was at its highest, when predators would be scurrying for shelter – the heat sapping their energy… and their appetites. Appetites, Blinker reminded himself. He remembered why he was here and he was coaxed closer to his target. Small bubbles of nectar exuded from the fruit as it continued to ferment. Blinker continued his dance above the food, testing his opportunity, unaware that in the nearby darkened forest lurked a torturous struggle and death.

***

In the security of the muted trees, another creature, a tetra-pod, sat facing away from the moonlit plain, carefully preening her thick, black fur. She had just awakened from one of her long naps into the middle of the night. While she held the silhouette of an old monk bent in prayer, ears, independent of her attention, searched for the unmistakable sounds that evidenced a prey. Trespassers in this valley were rare but she was always prepared for the challenge. Unaware of the approaching wings, she stopped to sniff at the light, nighttime air and was surprised by another long, arduous yawn that exposed the hungry, conical fangs for which she was famous. For a brief moment her face was transformed into a living, pink cavern of white stalactites. After her yawn, she tasted the air and returned to her black coat. She was the only member of her family that was kidnapped and brought to this valley by the Stompers.

She was despised by other creatures that occasionally wandered into this valley They felt that the Maker-Of-All-Things spawned her as some cruel joke. She was many times their size, bulky and slow and no match for their agility. But in His wisdom, to keep all His creation in balance, He masqueraded her body in the color of nighttime. It was often impossible to tell where her body left off and the surrounding night began. Even during the day an unsuspecting prey sensed her movements to be only the shadow of a passing cloud… until it was too late. Her complete blackness seemed to absorb the light around her. To those that knew her, she was called Midnite.

Midnite continued to smooth her silky fur, drawing out the sweet, musky fragrance that pleased her. Except for the wordless sounds of the creatures beyond the walls, the valley was quiet. Dead, she thought, like everything here! Except for the Stompers, nothing lives here. Nothing happens. She was nestled in a sparse forest of square, polished stalks – they heightened her boredom and discouragement. She smoothed her coat harder – treating her coat like this distracted her and made her feel better. At last she began to hear… no, feel… the rumbling that often quaked her whole body. She stopped, focused her eyes and her mind on a vague distance. Pictures idled in her mind, like woodsy pieces of debris drifting on a stream: her mother’s hunting lessons; sunlight filtering through high, green stalks; breeze-blown colors on the field – all those great things before I was kidnapped!

* * *

Blinker didn’t like being trapped in this valley either. He, too, was a lonely survivor. And the few times he tried to escape at night, flying with the moon as a guide, he was stopped hard by the invisible shield above the west wall of valley. Ohh, to be outside again, he mused. Nevertheless, he had to eat and he set down on the food.

* * *

She heard it! Even before she identified the sound she whipped her head around, her long body following, and crouched herself in one swift, soundless movement. She was ready! Though no more vibrations reached her focused senses, knowing told her – something’s there! From the shadows of the forest she eased forward, quieter than a passing breeze, confidently extending each paw in proper sequence. Balance is critical…, she thought. Steady… as she felt her heart pounding faster, … STEAAADDY… Holding her breath and tilting her head slowly, the internal rumbling had stopped and hormones flooded her body.

Again, she lengthened her body, head stretching to get closer. Her triangular, curved ears collected and filtered the soft sounds. As her nose twitched, the long, innervated hairs on the sides of her face strained for more air-borne vibrations in search of a scent. Eyes, opened wider to reveal large and black – lightly rimmed with a ring of green – like twin eclipses of twin suns.  She was aware that at night her eyes were dilated and the eye-shine could reveal her presence, so she fought the urge to blink. Her tail, almost as long as her torso, normally in constant movement for maintaining balance – now remained motionless so as not to warn her victim.

Another flutter up ahead, and she slid forward.

As she cleared the dark veil of the forest, she froze her movements. Huge eyes were watching her, blinking rhythmically. Someone is watching me, she thought. One of the Stompers? She tried to make out a familiar face around the eyes.

* * *

Blinker stood on the food pulsing his wings. A whisper of movement behind him caught his attention. The moonlight is moving! he shouted to himself. The shadows are alive! He leaped up in confusion. As a gigantic, black claw with extended nails whisked past him, crumbs fell from his proboscis. Another claw… and another… and another as Blinker darted to gain precious seconds and altitude. The pad of a claw hit against him, but a quick turn, a hard flutter of his wings and the reaching, deadly claws dropped below.

* * *

As the Buckeye butterfly fluttered away, the two large spots blinking with the furious flapping of its wings, Midnite watched for a long moment. Damn! she grumbled, …thought I had him. She sat down on the rust-colored rug. Heaving a sigh to expel the adrenaline from her body, she licked her fur. The softness of a cat’s fur must be maintained, she thought. My dignity demands it.

Midnite considered jumping up to her favorite shelf on the bookcase among the slabs of books and knick-knacks, but instead, she gave another sigh and wandered toward Abby’s room – passing the piece of apple the moth had favored; past the gaudy, patterned couch, past the squat TV cabinet and tables, and through the dining room with its forest of square, polished legs. She could hear the clicks and whistles of the summer insects outside the living room’s west window. At the foot of Abbey’s bed, she leaped gently and landed near the girl’s feet – Those careless stomping feet… she thought. After padding around in a circle to find the most comfortable position, Midnite curled up against the thin blanket covering Abbey’s feet, stretching her paws. She eased her head down on the child’s covered leg. As a peaceful smile came across the little girl’s sleeping face, Midnite felt the familiar rumbling sound in her own body and she purred herself to sleep.