It had seemed harmless to fall asleep in the simple light of the clearing. Trees touched the edges, but the wall was still in sight. As long as she was near, it would protect her.
Beyond the little stone barrier the libromancers had erected were all manners of veracious fiends. The stories, pantomimes to scare the children, indicated that most of the beasts were nocturnal. But, the sun was shining.
The trees swayed in the breeze, and she slept.
A biting pain had crept through her skin while she slumbered. Her eyes would not open. She realized she’d been stretched and pulled into standing, her arms clasped over her head.
Small prayers escaped her lips, bubbling out in froths of blood. All the stories the elders had told her had not mentioned the tiny teeth these trees seemed to have. It was borrowing into her.
She wondered if the trees ever closed up completely around their victims.
Dana O’Rourke 2012.08.16