As the planet warms, the waters shrink. My time comes soon. The snow that keeps me imprisoned is later every year. It did not come this year at all. The ice shall not stop me now.

I feasted on their ancestors. I am scale, tooth, and claw. I am why they fear the dark, and only a volcano’s rage ended my reign before. I have watched them grow soft. They do not wield spears or carry swords. Their bullets cannot pierce my hide.

Long before the equinox, my chance shall come, and this lake will be a pit of corpses.