She knew well the dangers of walking in the midnight darkness of Six Mile Canyon. But for Crystalle Cummings, it was her only way to work and home until she finally bought a car.
Aside from being a laborious walk uphill, her journey to work was fraught with no more danger than icy, snowy conditions in the winter and a scorching sun in the summertime. It was the night that brought about an emancipated fear.
Only once did she encounter the leather-membraned winged slug of lore. It had landed with its usual clumsiness someplace ahead of her, hoping to strike terror in Crystalle’s heart.
Slowly, it drew its slimy self close to the roadway edge as its would-be victim approached the planned ambush site. She was within a yard of the thing when it reared up, towering above the woman’s head, preparing to bring its whole weight down on her.
Crystalle, ever aware of her surroundings, glimpsed the beast as it spread its wings in the moon’s fullness. She paused momentarily to look up at its hideous form before, like an angry house cat, hissing a solemn threat.
The once legendary horror shrunk back into the shadows of Sugarloaf Mountain at the sound of her wordless promise, having learned never to approach a young cougar-in-training.
The Old Blog in the Desert 