Alvanian cave sloth
Octavio Briswald’s field notes
October 30, 2114
So we stand at witching hour, only lit by meteor shower,
Bent and fumbling with the camera near the cave’s dark gaping maw.
With our knees on boulders bumping, and our thoughts and heartrates jumping,
Our footsteps loudly thumping, thumping on the dark cave floor.
The muffled oath, the snapping branch; such a deafening roar;
I bet we’ve scared the sloth off for a week or more.