Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #11 February 2015 | Page 43

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I
Early sunlight glittered gold on the leaves. Big Meg
woke when a slight rise in temperature told him it was
time to move. He raised his head to taste the air. It
was still cool and a slight breeze carried smells to his
flickering tongue. His ears picked out no sound other
than the rustle of leaves and the creak of branches high
above the ground. His head swiveled, the folds and
wattles of his neck that served as camouflage shifted
as he did. He decided it was safe to move and that it
was early enough to find food. He stretched each leg in
turn, encouraging blood flow through his limbs so he
could move and find enough sunlight in which warm
himself. Even for Megalania Big Meg was a large male;
twenty-three feet long and weighing nearly two tons.
His sand colored skin was mottled with gray-green
stripes and patches. He had lived many years, more
than most of his species and felt no aging in his muscles and bones. He feared nothing except a scent that
was new and strange, a taste that had recently arrived
in the forest. He feared it as he feared anything new,
and instinctively knew that something about it was
dangerous. He avoided that smell whenever he could.

Tall eucalyptus forests and woodland dominated the land, dense enough to give shelter and provide
places to lie in ambush but clear where necessary so
he could move easily. Nothing had fallen to his bite
for too long now. Hunger forced him to move. He
didn’t like that, it brought him to attention and his
brain screamed fear. But the urge was too great. He
needed to eat and he needed to eat soon. His stomach
growled with hunger, and when he opened his jaws he
expelled gas. He moved slowly at first, his four limbs
aching. Slowly they began to work, the stiffness eased
just enough for him to move his bulk between the
trees. They shook as he pushed past and wary birds
screeched in alarm.

Now he could be seen, his movements noted
by possums that sc