( They catch her starving. The weak succumb, the strong triumph. She knows, her teeth know. Tried them on rope and the hard belly of the great, slow beasts that drift. They come from them, the two-legged fiends, come and throw glinting hardness down and catch her or her sisters in the sharp edges.
Today, they trapped her in braids of hard coral. Perhaps not the name. Cuts herself on the edge of it. They dress their slow-meandered creatures in it. The brown and the greys. In the water, she bled and her red nearly called a sister, whose starvation drove her to forget herself. They pulled her up before she could be swarmed.
And now she sits here, in a small round sleeve — "Shove'er in the barrel, aye!" — and she woos them with sweet blinks and song and the slow, coaxing flash of her generous tail. They say it is beautiful, that she is beautiful. It is fat and full and catches the light, and has only been bitten once at a corner, when a shark meant to have her, and the fin was not distorted.
Now, they one of of their two-legged vermin to her, and this — woman? — brings fish. She comes to the edge of her barrel, nearly lifting, mimicking the strange wide cleaving of the mouth they show her, when they mean her to be gentle. 'Smiles.' )
eda
Today, they trapped her in braids of hard coral. Perhaps not the name. Cuts herself on the edge of it. They dress their slow-meandered creatures in it. The brown and the greys. In the water, she bled and her red nearly called a sister, whose starvation drove her to forget herself. They pulled her up before she could be swarmed.
And now she sits here, in a small round sleeve — "Shove'er in the barrel, aye!" — and she woos them with sweet blinks and song and the slow, coaxing flash of her generous tail. They say it is beautiful, that she is beautiful. It is fat and full and catches the light, and has only been bitten once at a corner, when a shark meant to have her, and the fin was not distorted.
Now, they one of of their two-legged vermin to her, and this — woman? — brings fish. She comes to the edge of her barrel, nearly lifting, mimicking the strange wide cleaving of the mouth they show her, when they mean her to be gentle. 'Smiles.' )
Feed? Feed. Why here? Feed? Feed.