She dragged herself out of the water and gazed into the distance. The path that began at the shore stretched on and on, into the mountains that lay far beyond.
She moved awkwardly, trying to pull herself forward, trying to walk on the path. Somehow, she couldn’t seem to stand up.
A howl split the air, joined by another animal voice.
They were right ahead of her. A wolf and a dog, howling together, muzzles raised in a strange chorus.
Behind them, two pillars rose, framing the moon as it rose into the sky. It was the moon, but not the moon; larger than normal, and the face was more than just random markings. It frowned down upon the land beneath as dew fell from it in massive drops. It looked as if it begrudged shedding the dew; as if it felt the land should do without, or provide its own.
She gazed in wonder at the strange scene. She blinked, and raised a hand to rub her eye.
That was when she realised that her hand was the claw of a lobster.
That was when she awoke.
© Kari Fay