Page 61 of Beyond the Cottage

The sun had disappeared below the tree line, and a few stars were out. Crickets had replaced the buzzing cicadas.

Gretta stood under a hanging lantern, oblivious to the colossal bugs tapping the glass as she stared at a pocket watch with all the wrath of a pissed off, pint-sized bear.

Fuck, indeed.

“It’s past seven!” She pulled on her tunic and paced the porch, boards squeaking under her boots. “We should have left hours ago!”

Ansel winced. It wasn’t like him to nap so long, but the heat had drained him, and he’d slept like shit the night before. First, he’d been plagued by particularly grisly nightmares. Then tortured with a dream so sweet he hadn’t wanted it to end.

For once, however, their predicament wasn’t wholly his fault. “I told you to wake me after fifteen minutes.”

She stopped pacing and crossed her arms. “It was hot. I was tired.” When he didn’t respond, she grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “We have to go. Now.”

“Gretta…”

“No.Come on.”

She released him and trotted down the steps. He remained on the porch.

“Come on, we’re—” She yelped as a snake thicker than Ansel’s bicep slithered by. It moved sluggishly, its bulging middle indicating it had recently eaten. The snake curiously lifted it’s head at Gretta, which sent her clambering up the stairs.

“It’s just a python,” he said. “It’s the smaller ones you have to worry about.”

“How are snakes that big possible?”

“They’re not native. The best anyone can figure is some idiot released a few when they became too cumbersome to keep as pets.”

She warily watched it disappear into Isobel’s tomato plants. A sonorous, reptilian groan rumbled in the distance.

“Th-they’re just lizards,” she said. “And alligators wouldn’t attack a boat, right?”

“Probably not.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Ansel leaned on the railing and pinched his eyelids. “Do you remember what I said earlier on the path?”

“That I’m brave and stubborn?” she asked hopefully.

“That there are worse things than reptiles this deep in the swamp.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and scanned the tree line. “Like what?”

He wished he knew. Whatever they were, they stole livestock at night and left their gored bodies floating in the canals by morning. Ansel had even seen alligators bobbing in the water, their white bellies ripped apart, entrails missing.

“Things with teeth,” he said. “There’s a reason we keep our horses inside the compound.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That day on our walk, you threatened to lock me outside overnight.”

“I was frustrated. I wouldn’t have actually done it.”

She scoffed and resumed staring at the trees. He sat on the bench, dangling his hands between his knees. All he could do was wait for her to accept the inevitable.

“It is what it is,” she said. “We’ll take our chances.”

“…What?”

“The swamp is bright tonight. If we move fast and keep our eyes open, we’ll be fine.”

---