It Slumbers (open)

It didn't know how long it had slept. It had no concept of time, self, even loneliness, and it only knew the pleasures of hunger and hunt. So it opened what it knew to be eyes, and looked upon its unchanging, cold surroundings, and felt for the warmth of the glowing root in the center of its den. It was part blind of course, the accursed darkness causing made sure of that, but it flicked what it knew as a tongue and saw everything. The giant bats lurked, deeper in the cave systems, and the bones of the bats that came close to its hunting grounds laid still, crawling with the mutated insects that glowed, fully feasted on the glowing root.

Ah the god, the glowing root. So warm, so very warm against the feeling of cold.

When had it knew existence, a glimmer of thought reaching its head, as it clicked its beak, slithering into the large cavern that contained the bones of what it knew as parents. They had decayed long ago, the mutation making them decay long ago, and it felt the sharp eggshells from which it hatched scrape its underbelly. Food. It wanted food.

Reaching, the root cavern of the warm god root, it paused and hissed. The whisper, it heard the whisper again. But where was the voice coming from? It moved left but the sound grew weaker and to the right led to the same effect. But in the center, it pressed what it knew as an ear against the warm god. And it told him stories.

Stories of how it was birthed. Stories of the world. But it screamed and told stories of a thief. Many thieves of its precious children. Its flower children. It couldn't stand the screams, as they grew louder, but he couldn't stop listening to its god. As they began to intensify, to the point where it thought it would cripple under the pressure of its voice, the plant grew still, silently whispering to it. A single command.

"kill the furry four legged killers.."

And with that, it knew purpose. And it slithered towards the entrance.