Cat: God Amphibia

They say if you walk the Amphiwood at twilight, when the frogs sing their lowest note, you can still see her—a ginger blur at the edge of your vision, judging you, waiting for you to drop that fish.

Mewra sat down. She began to groom her shoulder. Then, without hurry, she coughed up a hairball. cat god amphibia

It landed in the Gullet with a wet thump . And Sszeth—old, enormous, made of rot and resentment—choked. The hairball expanded in the acid dark, a tangled mess of fur, mud, and what looked like a single, iridescent scale from a fish that had never existed. The Gullet convulsed. The ground shuddered. And then, with a sound like a thousand glass frogs shattering at once, Sszeth sneezed. They say if you walk the Amphiwood at

And from that day, the Amphiwood had a new law: the wet worshiped the dry, the dry fed the wet, and once a week, every creature brought Mewra a warm rock to sleep on. The Gullet filled with sweet water. The tadpoles grew legs without screaming. And the serpent Sszeth? He became her scratching post, coiled at the swamp’s heart, purring like a broken bellows whenever she deigned to sharpen her claws on his fossilized spine. Then, without hurry, she coughed up a hairball

Glot, still dripping, crawled to Mewra’s paws. “What are you?” he whispered.

In the rain-slicked swamps of the Amphiwood, where the mangroves grew teeth and the mist remembered, there was no god above the peat line. Until there was.