Step Over Yonder with full intention of Gettin’ Shit Done (fuck yea). God, it felt good to fledge out again. I’m gonna take the sky. A hop, skip and three good flaps should grant me enough oomph to go rawr.
Well, it would. Except for the pillars of mud that have reached up from the ground and wrapped themselves around my legs.
As the animate earth pulled me down, I realized I was not fighting back. That I was allowing this pulsing and greedy reverse landslide to claim me from the embrace of the waiting sky.
Then I see them. Dozens of mud-people reaching up for me as the snare delivers me to the ground. Each and every one of them wearing my face with happiness and greeting. Their lower bodies had merged into each other, and occasionally a few would get confused about where arms are supposed to connect to torsos.
The Shamblings were impatient to embrace me as individuals. As they grabbed my wings, they dropped the humanoid form they had learned from me. I was weighed down by tons of sentient mud.
I was among friends.
“You should have told me you wanted stories sooner! I have no water or food to share with you today.”
They moved me to the base of a tall and grand tree. There I sat with my back to the trunk, held immobile by their determined embrace.
“This is not the time for stories, friend. Not the time for moving. This is the time for stillness. Time for [unbeing].”
To understand [unbeing], you have to understand what the Shamblings are. Sentient mud, often filled with worms, insects, and fungi. Agents of decay and decomposition on the forest floor. Carnivorous when given the chance. Anything animal is game, but they tend to have an active dislike for anything intelligent.
How great an intelligence a Shambling has is proportional to how much contiguous mass it contains. A cup of sentient mud is not even aware it exists. A bucket full can be choosy about meals. A tub full has the reasoning of a child. A compact car’s worth can hold a passioned conversation with you about the loveliness of leaves changing color.
The hive I am friends with is the forest floor. It can break itself apart and have conversations with itself. Having done so many times, it has identified which entities should not be treated as prey as mutual assistance has benefited all involved. It has become so great, it often prefers to exist as small groups of individual Shamblings. The diversity gives the hive an edge during scarce times. One may think of an good idea that the whole would not consider.
But when the drying times come, when the prey have left and only stored resources will feed the hive, the hive pulls its pieces together and dissolves the boundaries of individuality. The forest floor undoes itself and unbecomes itself. It drops into a stupor, ceases all movement, and dreams. This is [unbeing].
I had been given a chance to experience unbeing with this particular hive of Shamblings. Weaver learned a new form of being as a result of the shared experience, and the Shamblings learned how to take on a sealed humanoid form. (Mudwives, much?)
The hive knows Weaver does not need to slip into [unbeing] to survive. It knows that [unbeing] is a difficult state for me, and I might become a danger to the hive if unrestrained survival instinct kicks in and I fight for cognition and independence. But it sought me out to pull me into itself. It has flooded over me, capturing me completely and smothering any movement. It knows something Weaver doesn’t know, but should know. And the only way to impart that understanding is to dissolve the boundaries between it and me. It has engulfed me nearly completely. Only my face is clear to the air.
“[Unbeing], eh? Is there something my intellect is blinding me to?”
“You have moved too fast for too long. Dream with us, again.”
“I’m human… .ish, my friend. Moving fast is my nature.”
“And we have touched what lies under your skin. We have [unbeen] with you and you with us. The season turns for you in a different time. It is now your season to [unbe].”
Once again I prove myself to be a fool and trust those that can destroy me. But not before ensuring that I really am in deep shit.
“This has to do with [the Antler Crowned and Green Masked Figure], doesn’t it. You were present before, though the hive was not allowed within [the hallowed area].”
“No more running in flesh or in thought. Sit still with us. Remember what you became with us. Become us again and then we will [unbecome].”
I sat still in the cool embrace and remembered what it was like to let flesh dissolve. My body rotted away in the impromptu grave and I slipped into [unbeing].