The great river was not merely a source of life; it was a boundary, a barrier, and a funnel. At the narrowest point, where the banks drew close and the water ran shallow enough for the desperate to attempt passage, lay the River Crossing. And here, half-submerged in the sluggish, muddy water, their eyes just above the surface, lurked the Crocodiles.

These were the Crocodiles at the River Crossing. They symbolized extractive monopolies, border security profiteers, and entrenched gatekeepers—entities that controlled a vital, unavoidable bottleneck. They didn't produce the resources, nor did they use them; their sole power was derived from their control over the essential path of transit. Their survival depended on the constant, high-stakes nature of the crossing, and they were experts at demanding a costly toll.

Their leader was the ancient, moss-backed male known as Jaws. Jaws didn't need to hunt actively; he merely needed to wait. Every creature in the forest, from the small migrating herds to the powerful trading convoys, eventually had to brave the crossing, and Jaws was always ready to exact his price, either in resources, influence, or outright predation.

The Price of Passage

The river was a complex ecosystem of power. The Sharks dominated the open seas and the wide lower delta, but they rarely ventured this far upstream. The Elephants—the international institutions—often sent convoys of aid and negotiated treaties regarding the river’s use, but their bureaucratic efforts always stalled at the physical, unavoidable hurdle of the crossing.

The Crocodiles understood a simple truth: if the path is necessary, the cost is infinite.

They watched the Stallions' infighting with detached interest. The Stallions’ self-destructive squabbles meant that their trade convoys were often disorganized and desperate, making them easy to manipulate at the crossing. The Tigers sometimes brought valuable regional goods, but their stealth was useless when forced into the open, shallow water. The Foxes, with their cunning diplomacy, always tried to negotiate a better rate, but Jaws's price was non-negotiable, his only answer the chilling, silent threat of the deep water.

Their control wasn't maintained by massive, continuous warfare, but by infrequent, highly publicized acts of decisive predation. If a trading convoy tried to bypass the accepted toll, or if a small herd tried to sneak across under cover of night, a swift, brutal attack would follow. The body would be left for the Vultures to observe, sending a clear message to all: the toll is cheaper than the crossing itself.

The Bottleneck Strategy

Jaws's most profitable targets were the desperate, resource-rich convoys.

Recently, the Bulls—the great competing rivals—had entered a temporary, fragile truce, agreeing to a joint, massive harvest of the northern salt flats. They amassed a monumental convoy of supplies, which had to pass the River Crossing before reaching the processing plants. This was the largest, most valuable target in years.

The Bulls, represented by their lead negotiators, tried every trick. They appealed to the Elephants for intervention, who sent a delegation that spent weeks in meetings, only to conclude that the Crocodiles' control of the crossing was a "complex, local issue requiring further study." They deployed the Crows for surveillance, but the Crocodiles merely submerged deeper, waiting silently, knowing the Crows could only track movement, not the intent of the bottom-dwelling predators.

Finally, the Bulls had no choice but to negotiate with Jaws.

The negotiation was brief and terrifying. The Bulls offered a percentage of the salt. Jaws remained still, a log in the water, only his eyes visible. The Bulls offered passage fees in gold. Jaws flicked his tail, splashing mud. The Bulls, seeing their schedule ruined and their massive investment rotting on the riverbank, became desperate.

Jaws finally moved, a slow, deliberate emergence onto the bank, revealing his immense size. His voice was a rasp of stone on stone. "The price is not salt. The price is not gold. The price is control. We demand the exclusive right to filter the water intake for the salt plant for the next twenty seasons. Your people will use our filters, and they will pay our price for clean water."

This was a masterful stroke. The filters were cheap and easy to maintain, but by controlling the water intake—a crucial bottleneck after the crossing—Jaws would embed himself permanently into the Bulls’ supply chain, ensuring a ceaseless stream of passive revenue without any risk.

The Bulls, pressured by their internal divisions and the imminent loss of their convoy, capitulated. They signed the agreement, their humiliation palpable. The convoy was allowed to pass, and the Crocodiles received their ultimate prize: not just a toll, but a stake in the infrastructure itself.

The Cost of the Corridor

The Crocodiles' influence immediately spread beyond the riverbanks. By controlling the water filters, they now influenced local resource prices, causing immediate hardship for the Meerkats and Rabbits who depended on clean water and who now had to pay the Crocodiles' inflated filtration fee.

When the Meerkats protested, the Crocodiles didn't send enforcers; they simply slowed the water flow, citing "filter maintenance." The Meerkats' local economy immediately stalled, their protests silenced by thirst.

Jaws lay in the shallow water, basking in the sun, utterly secure in his power. The Elephants eventually published a strongly worded report condemning the "unethical nature of the filtration monopoly," but their words had no effect. The Bulls were too busy fighting amongst themselves to address the new problem they had created.

The river flowed on, lifeblood of the forest, but at the crucial, narrow crossing, the rules were set by Jaws. The price of passage was paid, continuously and universally. The Crocodiles never needed to fight the grand battles; they simply needed to control the essential corridor, proving that in the world of power, the gatekeeper often wields more enduring control than the king.