mckinleymontana.com

by Allan Tooley

She knew the end was near, but she wasn’t sure just how it would come.

Earlier that day she’d seen movement out among the denuded trees at the bottom of the low ridge on which the village rested, and it seemed likely that the blue devils were back, preparing to unleash another assault. She was certain she and her compatriots couldn’t hold off another attack; they were all mothers and few in number –their mates having gone off the day before in search of food– and to compound the disaster, they simply weren’t well enough to defend their children.

That was because of the sickness. They all had it. She was too weak and too worried for her own children to move about and check on the others, but it appeared that some of the mothers had already succumbed to the coughing, bloody nasal discharge and a wheezing that came at the end. At this rate, the sickness could very well finish off the village before the blue devils mounted their assault. This would make things so convenient for them that she half-wondered whether they had somehow sent the sickness up the ridge in advance of their attack. It made some sense; she’d spied a troop of them some distance away two days before, and that very afternoon one of the other mothers had fallen ill. The sickness chose its next victims rapidly, as if it moved on the wind.

The wind. That was the third danger the village faced. It had grown cold so quickly, colder than she could remember. In years past, they’d had warning enough of the changing weather to travel to more temperate regions. But this time it was as though the seasons switched violently from one day to the next. The dark clouds spread quickly from the sunrise side to the sunset side, and the temperatures dropped at an alarming rate. The first wind that blew through the village was a strong gust that lasted a short while, following the spread of the clouds. But later, a much colder, sustained breeze came upon them from the sunset side, and brought with it a frightening companion: a fine, powdery substance that fell from the air, blown about on the breeze, and blanketing everything in sight. The flakes even seemed to absorb the sound, covering the ridge with an eerie silence that compounded her fear. She knew the worsening weather would bring their doom, if the blue devils and the sickness didn’t first.

And so she sat, quietly, watching over the children she couldn’t feed, waiting for the end to come. Her thoughts occasionally turned to those who had left the village to forage for food. Had they fallen already to one of the three dangers? Was that why they had failed to return? She wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. She would take responsibility for her children for as long as she could, and that was all she could do.

She saw movement again, down at the bottom of the low ridge. Yes, there it was. She couldn’t quite make out what it was in the artificial twilight created by the storm, but she didn’t really need to know anything other than that something was coming toward the village. In these times, that was enough to get her to rise to the defense.

But she couldn’t rise. She was too weak. With frustration bordering on panic, she realized that she would be unable to put herself between the attackers and her children. Earlier, she had positioned herself in such a way as to protect her children from the wind, and she knew they were more comfortable because of it, but now she needed to be on the other side, and that seemed impossible. Would they snatch her children as she watched helplessly? Would they kill her first and spare her the sight? Or could she muster the needed strength at the last moment and drive them away? She decided to wait, to concentrate on unleashing a final burst of strength and not to waste it now.

It wouldn’t be a long wait. She could hear the movement now, even if she couldn’t quite see anything. At least one attacker, although she couldn’t imagine any of the blue devils coming alone. That wasn’t their way. They preferred to sneak close, surround a village if they could, then make a coordinated assault in numbers, raising a havoc that enabled them to cause the most damage. She imagined that would be her last sight, the chaos of an attack, the weakened villagers trying their best to ward off their too-strong foes.

But she appeared to be wrong this time. There was no sneaking. She heard the approaching footsteps relatively clearly, muffled though they were by the breeze and the flakes. And soon she saw the blue devil, walking up the ridge in full view, as if he had nothing to fear. Of course he didn’t! He knew they were weak! The blue devils had unleashed the sickness for this occasion!

A moment’s observation proved her wrong again. The blue devil was walking with an uncertain gait, as though he lacked the strength to charge forward. In the failing light she could see his bloodied nose, and she could hear the telltale wheezing. He was a stronger foe than she, but only just. He could still move, but barely. He appeared to be alone, for though she could hear the weak cries of other mothers who could see him, there was no evidence of any attack coming from the surrounding area.

And yet, he pressed on. He gathered the strength to walk toward her exposed children, his arms reaching weakly toward them, his goal in sight. He took one more step, began to bend down to gather up his prey, and then froze. As if there were simply no strength left in his body, he sank to his knees, and then fell prostrate less than two steps from her children. His wheezing increased in rate and ferocity, and soon became a desperate series of gasps as the sickness prevailed. He gave one last, great effort to rise, then a prolonged exhale. The wheezing stopped. His eyes were still open, locked on hers, but they saw nothing.

She would have sighed with relief if she could, but the wheezing came upon her and she knew the end was near. With a sadness she looked upon her children, knowing what was to come but powerless to stop it. She knew she’d done all she could, that she did it still. They were still protected from the cold wind. She could do that much for them, even after her death.

She was still there, protecting her children from storms and predators, when they found her sixty-five million years later. And they named her maiasaura, the Good Mother Lizard.