While the kingdom of man waged war against the gods of old, ensnared in the timeless struggle between life, death, and ultimate power, young Brittle’s day started like any other – chasing a lizard.

“Come here, you!” Brittle waded through the murky swamp in pursuit of his runaway breakfast. The chilly waters lapped along his midriff, soaking his coat of moss and lichen so that it clung to his trunk like a second layer of bark. Soft silt squished between his bare toes as he struggled, managing one sluggish step at a time.

The lizard was faring better. The pink and orange, pebbled skin on her back peaked up out the water like an island as she slipped effortlessly away, propelled by great sweeps of her rudder-like tail.

“Thief!” Brittle yelled after her. “Shameless, beastly thief! You’re an abomination to the natural order!”

Brittle, in fact, didn't know what an abomination was. The villagers were fond of shouting it at him, however, and he thought perhaps it was time he gave the turn of phrase a try. He even lifted his gnarled little fist into the air above him and gave it a vigorous shake, as the fishermen were oft to do anytime he bumped aimlessly into one of their rickety boats.

The lizard reached the far bank and waddled ashore. She scrambled over a moss-covered stone and went still, basking in the warmth of the sunlight filtering down from the treetops. The lizard’s dark, vacant eyes watched Brittle’s meager progress with a grin. Well, it might have been a grin, Brittle supposed, considering the great galloping galoot’s mouth was still clasping his precious food satchel.

“You stay right there,” Brittle warned as he waded ever closer.

Most bog log beasts spent their days idly bobbing half-submerged in the swamp, allowing the ebb and flow of the current to take them wherever it pleased. But the Great Maker had blessed Brittle with a pair of twiggy legs and he was set on using them, come swell or high water! Preferably not high water, though. He was a rather stumpy bog log beast, after all – barely surpassing four feet, from his cork bark toes to the branching antlers sprouting from his head. Walking became quite difficult anytime the waterline rose past Brittle’s hollow chest.

At last, Brittle reached the far bank. He staggered out of the swamp with green algae water streaming from the gaps in his bark. It puddled around his bare toes. “Thief! Cad! Horrid, stinky beast!” His expansive repertoire of foul language came to a sudden and disappointing end. Brittle made a mental note to pay closer attention to the fishermen’s vocabulary the next time he bumped into one of their boats, before extending his hand in the grinning lizard’s direction. “Alright, you’ve had your fun. Give it here.”

The lizard slowly blinked one eye, and then the other.

“Oh, come on, Gilly. You don’t even eat toast and loam!”

Gilly opened her cavernous maw, depositing Brittle’s satchel onto the rock between her clawed toes. A low hiss rumbled from the depths of the lizard’s bulging throat.

“You want to show me something, is that it?” Brittle tapped his foot, tsking the same way Mama used to do when he was caught doing something foolish. “Why do your adventures always involve stealing my breakfast? Would it ail you to just ask for a change?”

Gilly’s long, sticky tongue flopped from her mouth and plastered to the side of her scaled face, obscuring one dark eye.

“I don’t like your tone, madam.”

With a confident huff, the lizard snapped her mouth shut and slithered down the rock, already ambling away between a pair of button brush shrubs. Gilly’s long tail dragged behind her, leaving an indent in the soft mud to mark her path.

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Brittle retrieved his satchel from the rock and slung its strap over his timber shoulder, hurrying to catch up. “Well of course I want to see the shiny cocoon! You should have started with that, is all I’m saying.”

Together, with Gilly leading the march and Brittle tottering behind on his thin, rickety legs, they traveled out of the swamp and into the greater woodland beyond. It wasn’t until they’d reached a tangle of flowering swamp roses that Gilly announced they’d arrived at their destination with a thump of her tail.

Brittle picked his way after her, careful not to tangle his gnarled antlers in the undergrowth as he stepped clear of the swamp roses and into a tight circle of trees. He gazed upwards, marveling at how the massive cypresses stretched all the way to the blue sky above. A glimmer of light caught Brittle’s eye. A shiny, silver cocoon hung suspended from the largest tree. Gilly padded over and sat beneath it, blinking in the strange light reflecting from its smooth exterior.

“Blessed be the Great Maker,” Brittle whispered as he cautiously approached, unable to tear his gaze from the strange cocoon. “For She who stubs Her toe grants strength to those with heartwood thick and true. Wherever we may wander, She hobbles too.”

Gilly opened and closed her mouth, patiently waiting for Brittle to finish his prayers.

“What do you suppose it is?” Brittle circled the curious chrysalis. Once certain it was not going to burst open with timber-eating beetles, he ventured closer. The exterior was as smooth as a turtle egg, but hard, like petrified wood. Gathering his courage, Brittle closed his spindly fingers into a fist and rapped his knuckles against the cocoon’s armored exterior. It produced a solid thud.

The cocoon startled, flailing its formerly limp appendages in the air with a muffled cry.

“It’s hatching!” Brittle was already bolting for cover when a desperate call halted him in his tracks.

“Help!” A voice echoed from within the shiny chrysalis. “Help me, please!”

Brittle turned back around in awe. “It speaks.”

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Wordlessly, Gilly and Brittle exchanged wary glances.

“Hello?” the voice said again. “Please help. I stepped in a trap and I can’t get down with all this blasted armor on. I’ve been hanging here all morning.”

Brittle raised his shoulders in a shrug at Gilly. “It did ask nicely.”

The lizard swished her tail in disagreement.

“My head really hurts,” the chrysalis groaned.

“It’s got to be done, Gilly,” Brittle insisted, doing his best to stand taller. “The Great Maker commands her children to help swamp dwellers one and all. No matter how big, or small, or…” His voice trailed, side-eyeing the giant cocoon, before adding in a hushed whisper, “Peculiar.”

“Oh, thank you!” the voice boomed from within the cocoon’s shiny shell. “Thank you, thank you, kind stranger.”

Brittle sidled up alongside the cocoon and studied its elongated shape curiously. He tapped his finger against its hardened shell, deep in thought. “Now how to get you out of here.”

The tap caused the bottommost piece of the cocoon’s shell to fall away. It landed in Brittle’s unsuspecting hands. Turning it over, he saw that it was hollow inside, like a shiny, iron skull. “Ah!” Brittle cried in fright. “Its head fell off!”

“Helm, not my head,” a weary voice issued from within the chrysalis. With its helm removed, it spoke noticeably clearer. “If you don’t mind, I would very much like to get down now.”

The voice was coming from deep within the hardened shell. Dropping onto one knee, Brittle peered in the cavernous cocoon and locked eyes with the red-faced creature trying to wriggle its way out. “Ah!” Brittle scrambled backwards. “A human is emerging from its armored egg sack!”

“I beg your par–”

“Run, Gilly! Quick, before we witness the miracle of birth!”

Gilly was already galloping for the bushes. Brittle flung the shiny helm over his shoulder and skittered after her.

“Wait!” the human shouted. “Please, don’t go!”

The man’s pitiful plea slowed Brittle’s footsteps. Reluctantly, he stopped and gazed over his shoulder at the bizarre human shell. Now that he was out from under it, he could see a taut rope stretched from the ground to the tree, dangling the hapless human several feet in the air. Aided by the breeze, the helmless cocoon was now spinning in slow, ambling circles.

“Please?” The man sounded like he was sobbing now.

“Son of gum tree,” Brittle sighed, as he started back towards the center of the trees. He unslung the satchel from his shoulder and tossed it to Gilly. “Keep watch over that for me, will you, Gilly Girl? I’m ‘bout to do something mighty foolish.”