The Lizard King Lives
#114 - Fighting with his thoughts and his consciousness, he marveled, “This is what it is to fly!”
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The Lizard King Lives
It was an easy approach into their camp. Their guard was down as if surely, they would not be challenged on their own turf. Dancing and carrying on, they were full of themselves, and fermented cactus juice, aka vodka.
Larry and Lilith spoke to their assembled troops.
“Tomorrow, we will attack.”
As they made their way to their tent, King Leonardo slipped between the shadows and quickly dispatched both Larry and Lilith.
During his escape, he heard the war party go quiet, and then an uproar. The bodies had been discovered. He must hurry.
On a barren stretch in moonlight and lacking cover, he felt the oncoming rush.
A stabbing pain in his side and tail, and he was airborne and headed south over the forest. He was had.
The Dreaded Owl! Death on silent wings.
Fighting with his thoughts and his consciousness, he marveled, “This is what it is to fly!”
The owl landed in a tree. Without thinking, Leonardo released his tail, distracting the owl with its wiggle of severed nerves. In the moment he had for escape he fled to the underside of the branch, then down the tree trunk.
Halfway down, a knothole provided an ideal hideaway. He took stock of his situation - a talon pierced side that was bleeding, and for a second time, no tail.
Leo Jr. and Lola would have no idea of what happened or where to look for him. He would have to get back on his own.
Safe for the time being, he rested. When able, he would head north.
In the morning it was cold and damp in the woods. The bleeding from his side wound had stopped, and for the most part he felt okay, but sore. He basked in the early morning sun. It revived him and he began his journey home.
How far? He wasn’t sure. He could be a couple of days deep in the woods. He was glad it was day and could see what enemies were about. The real danger was at night, so he planned to find another good hiding place by then.
He made his way steadily through the underbrush always on a northerly trek. He was able to eat, and he felt stronger.
At night he found another knothole in a tree for cover. The night was warmer than the previous one.
Midway through the next day, he heard footfalls, and his heart skipped a beat. Not from a squirrel or a deer. Following her nose here and there, it was the White Terror. He scrambled a short way up a tree.
Leonardo had never seen the dog go into the woods. Was she lost, or just exploring, expanding her range. He decided the latter.
She ventured close. Maybe the dog could help him get home. But how?
He descended the tree, kicked at the leaves to get her attention and stepped into a patch of sunlight, revealing himself to the White Terror. She charged his position.
He dodged behind the tree and ran up the trunk. The dog sniffed at the base of the tree, pawing the leaves. The King circled the trunk to a position just above the dog. He jumped, latching onto The Terror’s collar and holding on!
The dog jumped feeling the impact on her neck but settled quickly feeling no weight or anything awry. She resumed her search but soon accepted that the lizard had given her the slip.
She continued her explorations.
From a good distance away, he heard a whistle. It was Guy, calling for The Terror.
She hesitated, smiling inwardly and resuming her play.
“I hear you, but I’m not ready to return.”
Then another whistle, more strident than the first.
“Oh, okay! I’m coming!” She darted through the woods with Leonardo holding on for all he was worth.
She bounded into the back yard meeting The Cat. The King’s heart sank realizing his situation amidst his two greatest backyard enemies.
The White Terror and The Black Blur met in greeting and mock battle, the cat landing a paw on the collar right next to where Leo held firm, the contact knocking him through the air and into the bougainvillea.
None was the wiser.
His side was bleeding again from the rough ride and landing.
Another whistle from the sunroom had both creatures heading inside.
He held his position and rested. He was now in Lonnie’s territory, but Lonnie and crew were nowhere to be seen.
Across the yard was his stomping grounds.
And there was Leo Jr., ever diligent, standing on an outcrop keeping watch.
King Leonardo hailed him. “Leo, my son! It is I.”
Leo Jr. bounded off the rock and scurried across the yard and up the bougainvillea. They fell upon each other in greeting and gratitude that The King was alive, and home safe.
Leo assisted his father’s remaining steps into home camp. Queen Lola fainted upon seeing Leonardo.
Upon reviving, Lola prepared Leonardo’s favorite meal. Fried chocolate ants smothered in jasmine nectar.
They talked of the last couple of days.
Leo Jr., not seeing his father after supper, guessed at his intent to go and deal with Larry and Lilith.
He called his troops together and they set off after him.
Above the beating drums, they heard the panicked clamor of Larry’s men. They arrived shortly after, to see that the clan was in disarray with Larry and Lilith’s sudden demise.
Leo Jr. charged them and soon the battle was over. A few escaped, fleeing east into the hills.
He charged his men to keep from Lola Lilith’s involvement. Now was not the time.
But The King was nowhere to be found.
Back home and emboldened by their success against Larry, Leo Jr. and crew took on Lonnie’s clan routing and scattering them to the far west.
There was peace in the valley but for the missing king.
At home, what had become of The King was unknown and Lola was in mourning. Leo Jr. wasn’t ready to concede the notion that his father was gone.
King Leonardo knew his son was ready to lead.
And he wanted to retire. He and Lola could travel, take a cruise, bask in the hot springs to the north. Maybe move to Florida. Whatever.
The decision was made, and celebrations ensued.
Long live King Leo Jr.!
The Lizard King - 1 – Still the Lizard King - 2
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Great, James. It's amazing to think about what dramas take place in the backyard.
Saved by the bougainvillea and celebrated with chocolate ants. That Lizard King is an uber- scrappy guy. I suggest he retire his aggression and retire in Florida! Fanciful writing my friend.