Frantic to escape the bog’s demons, Odin broke into his fastest trot, moving through thickets of stunted spruce. Casting their long shadows across his path, they kept the black water bog cool and dark. He longed for the sun’s warm light. Instead, early dawn brought in a thick fog that carried within its droplets an enchanting fragrance tweaking Odin’s nose.
For some time, the bog orchids had been watching the troll with the red beard. Orchids ruled the mossy bogs with their ancient art of seduction, flaunting their ancient powers of alluring scent and jewel-like brilliance.
Excited by Odin’s presence, the orchids nodded their beautiful heads in agreement, scheming on how to outwit the handsome troll with their intoxicating bouquets. However, the insidious black water bog was also aware of him. All of the bog’s sinister tricks were blending in agreement with the cunning orchids.
In perfect pitch, the bewitching orchids shimmered in their gowns of lavender and crimson as they swayed to the music of the morning’s soft misty breeze, all the while their delicate petals quivering and emitting a sweet perfume. Oblivious to their sorcery, Odin trotted straight into the cluster of orchids as they brazenly displayed their voluptuous lips, puckering and smacking for his attention.
Odin was drifting into a trance and moving through the orchids as if blindfolded. Punga could feel the sweat on his friend’s now feverish skin. Alarmed by this behavior, Punga suspected the bog orchids were up to their trickery. He began to scold Odin, warning him of their spells. But headstrong and tempted by the orchids’ enticing charms, the mountain troll ignored his little friend. He was thirsty, he was hungry, and there was this intriguing scent in the air.
Punga sensed another odor. Encircling them were stagnant pools that nourished carnivorous orchids. Reeking with the odor of rotten meat, these orchids were masters at enticing insects into their waiting belly for digestion. He feared that one of these horrid flowers would capture and digest him.
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Male mosquitoes were the bog orchids’ usual admirers. Their life cycle was dependent on ravishing the orchid for the syrupy nectar mysteriously hidden in her spur. Odin’s presence had upset their natural order of pollination. Preoccupied with mesmerizing the mountain troll, the fickle orchids rejected the male mosquitoes. Each time a male would approach, the orchid turned away and closed up her petals. Now, the males were flying around in an angry swarm, unable to pollinate and at the same time collect the nectar that kept them alive.
What was worse, the males, in their rage, chose to ignore the passionate whine of the female mosquitoes’ wings thrumming their irresistible love song.
Punga, being an insect, sensed a new danger—the wrath of the female mosquitoes. Unlike the males, whose only thought was to pollinate every desirable orchid in the bog, the female mosquito’s only interest was in the blood of warm-bodied trolls and animals. Sucking blood helped her develop healthy eggs. Now angry, the female mosquitoes did not want Odin in their bog. Since his arrival, the males no longer swarmed after them with passion in their wings.
Black swarms of female mosquitoes gathered. In their desperation, they flew at Odin, each bombarding him with their needlelike proboscises. How much he hated the tiny pests with their piercing mouthparts. Their high-pitched whirr surrounding his face brought him rudely back to what sounded like Punga shouting into his ear. For just a split second, he recalled the enchanting scents and excitement he felt while under the orchids’ spell. Listening to his little friend, he stumbled his way out of the cluster of orchids and away from the angry insects.
Odin, though badly stung, kept up his pace. This stubborn side of his friend surprised Punga. He thought about this—it would take Odin’s stubbornness to get them through the black water bog.
By dusk, they had escaped the land of orchids and mosquitoes, but Punga was worried. He recognized the bladderworts floating in the pools of stagnant water and knew they had entered a dangerous new biome—the realm of the water bogie. The bogie preferred to hide under these carnivorous plants. When food was scarce, she ate the plant’s bladder full of captured tadpoles and water fleas. Ruled by nature’s ravenous pangs of hunger, she would drag an unsuspecting victim under and into a watery grave. Punga was wearing out fast trying to keep his voice loud enough to warn Odin to slow his pace.