03-25-2010, 08:39 PM
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(390.)
His wide blue eyes followed the action as they all split off to fight. The sound was that of nightmares—snaps, snarls, yowls, caterwauls, growls all in fury, agony, pain, and joy. They were too much for him. King brought his dark-tipped ears close to his head, narrowing his electric eyes as he found that one was pursuing them. A smaller one of the coyote band. He found himself thankful that it was not the bad coyote-woman, but that was the end of his gratefulness. He wished he was big. He wished that he was big and strong like Papa. Then he could defend his Mama, tearing them apart and feasting on their blood and pain and agony. This was wrong, why was it happening? He wanted to ask why but he couldn't because there was a growling stuck in his throat, a dark and continuous thing that reminded him of how much he hated them. Oh, he hated them. He wanted to be big so he could rip them all to pieces and then laugh at them because he hated them so much.
The smallish coyote darted towards them and he could look down over Mama's arm to see him attacking her leg. King's blue eyes widened in fury and his tiny growl lashed out as a snarl. She kicked at him while backing away slowly and then the ground was becoming closer and he was sitting there out of Mama's arms. He felt so much less safe, afraid more now. He looked up at her with eyes full of fear and anger as she bid him stay and then he watched her turn back to the puny coyote that had targeted her. She had picked up a rock—it looked dark and heavy and dangerous in her hand.
He was so frightened, but he was also excited. He wanted Mama to hurt the evil coyote because he hated them so so much. He wanted her to bring the rock down on his head so it cracked like a bird's egg that fell out of the nest. Then they would be safe because the rest would be gone and dead and they could not hurt them. Do you believe in monsters, King? Yes. Yes I do. They are everywhere, in the skins of wolves and dogs and coyotes. Everywhere.