With a strangled, desperate cry, the wolf slithers off Ray's shoulders, sliding apart even as it slides to the ground.
It seems a lot smaller, dead.
(So passes one of the Twelve Guardians; O Discordia, the world grows dark)
The coyotes howl, in unison and forlorn; mourning. Then they run like hell for the horizons, getting as far away from Ray and each other and the other animals as they can.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-07-19 06:41 am (UTC)It seems a lot smaller, dead.
(So passes one of the Twelve Guardians; O Discordia, the world grows dark)
The coyotes howl, in unison and forlorn; mourning. Then they run like hell for the horizons, getting as far away from Ray and each other and the other animals as they can.