Rhyonna effortlessly follows the current of air into the Oak grove. Aha! Her favorite arum flower stands in the shade of the largest Oak tree. The purple arum will hold her cooling bath.
"Mmmmm! The sweetness."
A voice from above, an ancient Sheegahshee spirit of the Oak, old Oakley cautions, "Faery Rhyonna, that arum is sour. This is not a plant."
The sweet fragrance beckons Rhyonna, who wills not to heed old Oakley's warning. Rhyonna slows her wings and glides through the broad leaves to the pouch where the nectars collect.
"In I leap. Wheeeeee!"
Slip through the mouth,
Glide into a wide pocket,
Spiral to the bottom of the pouch,
My light shins on the walls.
In the still space, gray stains the arum pouch. Sharp stinging hurts Rhyonna's mouth and nose. The flower holds soured air. Rhyonna is queasy, unable to move, and then fright shakes her.
"I'm TRAPPED! HELP!" her shrills echo around the flower.
The opening to the outside closes. The flower jerks up and down. Rhyonna slips in gray fluffed slime, which sticks to her. Smashing into the walls, Rhyonna tightly holds her paralyzed her wings, screaming. "Keegan-n-n!" "Mommm e-e-e-e!"
In the scurry, her cries drown. Rhyonna pushes her knees and elbows tight against the wall edge to hold steady and protect her wings.
The trap stops, then tips. Rhyonna grips tighter. The trap shakes and twists until Rhyonna slides down the slimy walls. "H E L P!"
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