Snailsbane

Snailsbane snuffled through the dandelions. It had already been a good night’s hunting. Four slugs and a snail had already fallen to his sharp teeth. Perhaps, he mused, some worms would round the meal off well.

A sound snagged his attention. Even better: a caterpillar! He pushed past a clump of garlic, filling the air with its hefty aroma. The subtle quiver of a gooseberry leaf gave away his prey’s location. Nuzzling under the leaves he spotted the creature. A small green grub with a black head. Perfect! Sawfly larvae were delicious.

He rummaged the rest of the leaves. Where there was one sawfly larva there were usually more. This time, however, he was out of luck. Not surprising, given the recent cold snaps. It would still be too early for most of them.

A much larger sound caught his ear and he froze. Was that cat back? It wasn’t a threat to Snailsbane, of course. The stupid thing couldn’t get around his spines. Certainly not with its tongue, like it had tried last time. There was no helping some people.

He turned to the source of the noise. Ah. That explained it. Those Two-legs again. A pair of them this time, sitting on their ridiculous frames underneath a shelter so large it barely counted as one. Useless for cosying up in. The creatures were waving their strange black rectangles at him again. Madness. From their body language they apparently thought they were being quiet. Strange beasts. They had their uses at least. The smallest of them had built a little house for Snailsbane. A tiny shack of a house compared to Snailbane’s own under-shed palace, but you had to give him credit for the effort at least.

He turned away from the Two-legs. The evening was still young and Snailsbane fancied stretching his legs. Unhurriedly, he strolled to the fence and wriggled under to whatever adventures the night still held.