This is from @Inventrix’s prompt for “a Pookah;” @DaHob picked species and name. Um, I might have just put pookah in Planner ‘Verse.
The world looked different down at 3″ from the pavers. More importantly, to Cynthia’s point of view, SHE looked different to the world at three inches from the pavers.
If she wasn’t careful, what she would look like was dinner, but she could work around that. Work under it, really; her small form was very good at burrowing, and there was a lot of space where the dirt was bare, space that, from her dim memories, would have been covered over, the last time she was through this city.
She’d eaten her way through a book, once, that had in it voles that really had to be called supervoles. Giant creatures that could dig through anything. While she wasn’t quite that impressive in her small form – she was under a foot long, after all – she could make mincemeat of loam or even hardpack clay.
And once she was there, under the lines of the wild gangs, under the places where the dirt tasted unhealthy and smelled like poison, she could pull back up, dirty and tired after an entire day but safe, into the small gardens at the heart of the city. She could pop her head up, and then the rest of her, traverse the rose garden while still tiny and furry, and then, with a shake to dislodge the dirt, she could stand.
The other girls in the chief’s harem wondered why she was his favorite. She was, they said, mousy (she didn’t correct them), small and a bit stout and brown. Her nose was pointed. But she, unlike them, got information to the chief that nobody else could and, while she lived, he would pamper and protect her, for that.
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/75262.html. You can comment here or there.