Silt Engine // River Reaver Canticle (Capy-Core? VII)

Driftwood hulls stitched from bone and root river thick with tannin and rot they do not sail wind— they drift the current… and wait hhrrnn… ghrrnn… low in the channel where reeds choke passage armored backs like capsized boats eyes just cutting the mirrored surface counting steps of grazing throats we take… we take… what drifts too near… rrnh—hnk—rrk— mud-caked jaws lined with coinless hunger no gold here—only meat and bone each slow drift a marked possession every crossing becomes their own no flag raised—no warning given only depth… and pull… and grip… RIVER REAVERS—SILT BELOW (HEAVE—DRAG—SINK THEM LOW) NO WIND NEEDED—NO SAIL TO SHOW (WE TAKE—WE KEEP—WE NEVER LET GO) CURRENT IS CREW—AND MUD IS HOLD ALL THAT ENTER—PAY THE TOLL they hoard no jewels, no silver rings just floating carcass, swollen things ribcage cracked like broken crates soft remains in silted weights treasure sinks… we stack it deep… barnacled logs, snapped femur piles teeth-mark ledgers stretched for miles a river ledger written in drag each corpse another stolen flag crew to motion— target drifting— SKREE— DRAG THEM DOWN— (DRAG—DRAG—DRAG) snap—haul—twist—break— water churns into choking slurry HEAVE… AND… SINK… lock…… drag…… drown…… rip— tear— jerk— fold— crank— split— grind— still— trinkets of bone and bloated hide drift caught in root and reed no chest of gold—just swollen remains this is the wealth they need [v1 - distant] mine… below… mine… RIVER REAVERS—SILT BELOW (HEAVE—DRAG—SINK THEM LOW) NO MERCY GIVEN—NO DEBT FORGONE (ALL WHO ENTER—ARE CLAIMED AND GONE) CURRENT IS CREW—AND MUD IS HOLD EVERY LIFE—A STORY SOLD the river smooths what violence made rrnh… wait…