Unbury
Part 1: The Dirt Hole last time she ended up with a fish hook snagged in the roof of her mouth. She didn’t like having salt crusted around her eyes, or wrinkled fingertips.
This side of the lake is closer to the city. The earth here is harder and lighter, and most of the prey animals have been spooked off. It might be a while until someone comes by. But she knows there are subterranean wells, and there might be scouts for new housing developments. Someone always comes eventually.
She digs a hole, then squats beside it. She urinates into the rich earth, then takes some leaves and wipes around her vagina. She could buy a scent spray with the correct pheromones, but she prefers to do it this way. Since she’s fed, from the divot in her lower back she’s sprouted a peacock tail of ferns which she can open and close at will. It’s a shame to lose that, but we’re all born naked.
She slides into the hole and pulls at the earth, letting it collapse onto her. The soil is the colour of biscuit crumbs, studded with seeds, tasting of woodlice and malt. She breathes it in, letting it fill her. Her eyes close and she lets herself sleep.
She waits to transform; waits to see who will unbury her.