“I think today’s our day, friend” Shol’shagal said.
Gog’latur coughed some pollen in retort. “You’ve been saying that for days, Shol’shagal. Not one catch yet.”
Shol’shagal reached a thick vine over to console her friend, but the plant batted her away with her own vines.
“Leave me alone,” Gog’latur said.
Shol’shagal let her be, and faced the Suns again. The rays brought strength and a clear purpose. She stretched her roots down into the water table for a drink and was refreshed. The few clouds in the sky was a welcome change from the previous dry and withering week’s cloudy days with no rain.
A rustle came from the shrubs ahead of them. The shrubs didn’t speak her language, but Shol’shagal had learned enough of theirs to know that something was coming.
Indeed, it was animal. A furry, scrappy-looking, four-legger that made a disturbing barking noise when it emerged from the shrub line.
Gog’latur didn’t ask, as usual, so Shol’shagal simply let Gog’latur take it. The animal yelped when the vine swiftly wrapped a leg, and within seconds, the creature was in the mighty plant’s maw. It struggled within, but Gog’latur’s acid soon silenced the creature.
Then a small band of animals came forth, walking on hind legs, wearing animal skins on their bodies, and even things made from grasses.
Grasses. Her plant-kin.
“Lunch!” Shol’shagal screamed.
And the hind-leggers screamed as well, as neighbors Shol’shagal and Gog’latur feasted on fresh meat.
(The word prompt today was “Neighbor.”)