#frogga

Daylight.

Hunger filled my belly like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Not since the last, I'd feasted upon a tasty meal. Which, for all intents and purposes, was yesterday, but pay no never mind to that. Only to the growling in my stomach. Acid feeding on acid as I gulp down another spit of bog ale. Yes, a proper meal fit for a prince of Swampgard would be mine at last.

The tasty feline I'd been tracking for weeks was close. Oh yes, I'd eaten plenty since first spotting my eye on that clever cat. Sleek and clandestine. It would make for a most sinful meal. There was something about her that I knew I must devour in entirety. A clawing at my insides I'd never felt before. Save for a few months ago when I spotted and took down that fawn. No. No, this was more than that. This was a glorious purpose. More delightful than swimming through a school of fresh fish. Purer than wading through a spring morning sun-warmed water's edge.

A snapping at my tail.

My irksome brother, Throg, of course. Adopted, don't worry. Croaking at me as usual about something I couldn't be bothered to care about. If he didn't want his friends' hands bitten off, then he should not let them taunt me so. I remain blameless in the swamp. One of the only gods that could say that here in Swampgard. My mother Frogga the clear exception. Toadin and Throg were more terrible than a drought upon these swamps at times. They were utterly oblivious to their reckless ways, as though they were doing everyone a favor with boastful parties and wasteful profligates.

I did my best to pay it no mind, but being such that I am, a Croki, in a family of Amphibigods, it felt my only destiny was to be the monster in their fairytales. The croc in the night, the gator of nightmares, I'd heard it all. I never asked for this life. This pathetic excuse for a family.

I should rule this swamp. The creatures here need a fearless leader who wouldn't mind eating a few of them to show them their place. Toadin was too stubborn and old to see things my way. His amphibious skin too slippery to behold the truth. To see things any other way than his own in reality. Throg would always be the prized son. The one destined for greatness and the future King of Swampgard.

What's my purpose? Other than being glorious, that is. Right now, the purpose is to eat this cat. I wouldn't let anything get in my way. I flicked my tail at Throg and swam away from him. For good, if I had any say in it. I trusted that this cat was more than my next meal. It was my destiny. My one true purpose in life. I couldn't explain it. I know you must think me mad. What is he thinking? Maybe he is as much of a joke as his family makes him out to be.

Maybe.

But I think not. I think you'll soon agree as well.

---------------------------------------