Ten Babies

The dunnart is asleep in the grass clump.

Every so often she trembles.

She dreams of fires coming closer. She runs over hot ground, followed by her ten babies.

Eeeh!

Each time she looks back, one less baby. 

O dear.

Gaius, Saint Roley and the copperhead are fast approaching. 

They are now at grass clump thirty nine.

Thirty nine, by my reckoning, says Gaius.

Three more to go, says the copperhead.

Four, says Saint Roley.

To forty two? says the copperhead.

It wasn't in clump forty two, but the next one, says Saint Roley. 

My mistake, says the copperhead, slithering ahead.

We'd better keep up, says Gaius.

I agree, says Saint Roley.

The copperhead reaches grass clump forty three. She waits there, politely.

Gaius bends down. He can't see a dunnart.

Are you sure it was this one? asks Gaius.

It's definitely this one, says the copperhead. I can smell it.

It was down in the heart of the clump, says Saint Roley. I only spotted it because I heard an Eeeh! and the grass moved.

All right, says Gaius. Quiet, all.

He parts the grass with his finger.

His finger smells strongly of orange.

The dunnart wakes up, startled, and bites his finger.

Ouch! says Gaius. Easy!

The dunnart collects herself. 

Sorry. What time is it?

Mid morning, says Gaius. I too must apologise. I didn't mean to wake you.

What's that smell? asks the dunnart.

Orange, says Gaius. My breakfast.

I feel sick, says the dunnart.

That's because you're nocturnal, says Gaius. Do please go back to sleep.

As if, says the dunnart. What do you want from me anyway?

Only to count you, says Gaius.

And that takes three of you? says the dunnart. 

I wouldn't have found you, but for Saint Roley, says Gaius. 

What about her? asks the dunnart.

Me? says the copperhead. I just tagged along with Mr Secundus. You know who he is, don't you?

No, says the dunnart.

I'm a natural historian, says Gaius. And I'm delighted to meet you.

Me not so much, says the dunnart. But you do seem innocuous.

How about a photo, with all of us in it? says Saint Roley.

Wonderful, says Gaius. How shall we do it?

You sit down, says Saint Roley. Me on your left, copperhead on the right, dunnart in the middle. Then you take a selfie.

Everyone is happy with this.

Saint Roley has a good sense of composition.