It was a fine winters afternoon. The gum trees swayed gently as finches twittered between the branches.

The clearing, with its tall grasses and ornamental golden fireweed, looked like a soft woollen blanket. Magpies warbled soothingly, bellbirds chimed and a lone butcher bird perched on a powerline, straining his eyes for a juicy morsel to add to his larder. Mr Fryll basked on the platform overlooking his dam, soaking up the first sun hed seen in days. He shivered as the warm pine slats of the platform greeted his nostrils with their sweetly earthen scent. He quivered as he stroked his feet across the pine board ripples, itching each thin, clawed toe as he went. His tongue dropped from his mouth and a broad smile of contentment spread across his scaly features. His eyes closed one by one and, as he dozed off, the sun dropped below the tree line. His eyes opened and his shoulders dropped. He snuggled closer to the boards, squirming around, smearing the remaining warmth across his skin. He evaded the ever lengthening shade untilplop. He ran out of platform. His beady eyes jumped from their sockets, his legs and body splashed about until he made it safely to the edge of the dam. The breeze caught his sodden skin and he shivered. Scuttling over rocks and dirt, Mr Fryll made his way towards a place he knew the sun couldnt hide from. He glanced up at a felled tree in the clearing just below the powerlines. The sun reflected from its silvery, barkless trunk like it was the full moon.

He clambered onto the grey gum and lay belly down on its warm surface. He shivered as the tree greeted his nostrils with its sweet eucalypt scent. He quivered as he stroked his feet across the splintering grains, itching each thin, clawed toe as he went. His tongue dropped from his mouth and a broad smile of contentment spread across his scaly features. His eyes closed one by one and, after he dozed off, a cloud covered the sun. *** High on the powerline the butcher bird preened his clean white apron, whistling as he went. Every so often he flew down to perch on the lump of sandstone he used to sharpen his hooked proboscis in readiness for his next job. The butcher spied a large frilled lizard lazing on a log. What a find! He could feed off that carcass for a week! He swooped quickly and with intent. He pierced the reptiles rear leg with his barb and flew it to his gloriously full pantry where he racked it between a cicada and a few geckos. He surely had to be the best hunter there was. He began carving his showpiece. *** When Mr Fryll awoke, he found himself hanging upside down from a great height. A strange bird with a hooked beak pecked at his stomach, claret covering its pied plumage. He tried moving but was skewered on a tree branch beside some rather awful looking dead things. The bird moved around to his back, nibbling its way to his spine. As it did, warmth hit his face. There was nothing blocking the sun now. He shivered as the festering geckos hit his nostrils with their awful stench. He quivered as the bird nibbled at his feet, itching each thin, clawed toe as it went.

The function of his life dawned on him; He knew why every morning he warmed himself in the sunlight. And as it did: His tongue dropped from his mouth and a smile spread across his scaly features. His eyes closed one by one and, as he died, the sun dropped below the horizon.