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The wind blows in four different directions. The arctic winds blast to the Humans of the North. The lighting clouds are pushed to the Loips of the East. The warm tropical winds fly to the Pulapeeps of the South. The desert storms send dust to the Desert Trolls of the West.
Scholars have said that Humans are mermaids who have lost their fins and flippers. Tales describe that Loips are descendants of dogs. Pulapeeps were made when the trees started to feel fear. Desert Trolls are said to be the desert’s waterboy.
I personally take no interest in the philosophy of scholars or how we came to be. All my racing mind can think about is how long my shift is taking.
I am a simple man in a complex city.
A city in which I, a mere business owner, am constantly running away from the darkness that plagues this city. My sharp serrated teeth could be sold for a quick buck. My teal and sleek black pelt could be used as a floor rug for some mob boss. My teal perky whiskers could be used as an ingredient for a terribly lethal poison.
I am a walking, talking, living, and sentient money dispenser. It’s sickening how much I am punished for just being me. A dreadful terrible business that I dare not tread around. If I would have known what challenges I would have to face. I’d never have stepped into the cobblestone streets of Grard.
But the stars did not shine that way. I remember it as clear as a cloudless summer sky. I was so nervous back then. Leaning back dramatically. Craning my thin neck backward just so I could get those green letters into view. The huge wooden sign was miles high above my head. The sheer size of the sign made my tired heart jolt. Yet, the poorly painted green letters were beckoning me to enter.
I remember my first dreadful thought that plagued my tired brain.
If a sigh was so colossal and huge… Just how big were the folk?
I laugh at such memories and conclusions now. But back in those premature days, I was so distraught. It was a taste of reality. The world was not the one out of place. I was a square in a line of circles. A distressed outcast and misfit all because I am a Pulapeep.
I used to be a fool and broadcast my wimpey feelings on my cat-like face. Time can only grow a wiser and smarter soul. I’ve locked those feelings of being a cornered animal away.
Time will show me if I’ve succeeded. Or if someone or something has found the key.
I do not miss being new to The North. Just as much as I do not miss being forced to eat my neighbor's horrid cookies. I’m decent at engaging in conversation with much larger folk. I am not blind nor am I a fool. I know what the bigger folk do just to make me stay. No sudden movements and I think we will both stay sane.
A loud cheer replaces my gaze from a blank stare to an alert glare. My frolicking tail slowly and methodically curls into a tight ball. Resting against the back of my loosely fitting pale cardigan. My light sapphire toes fiddle in my glossy black dress shoes.
The drunken chorus from downstairs, unfortunately, wafts into my pointed ears. The poorly sung words leave a bad taste in my mouth. The drinks that the poor bartenders serve turn dogs into savage wolves, turn lizards into dragons, men turn into pesky buzzing flies.
I serve a city of hungry, filthy, salivating dogs. If I trek downstairs, I’ll become a slab of meat.
The city is always hungry and I cannot help but be forced to yield to such facts.
The tick of the clock is in unison with the beat of my heart. The small black arrow clicks with each approaching thud outside.
My triangular ears swivel backward. The lavender insides are like sheets of dry cloth. Soaking up all of the informative droplets. My tail drops like a limp rope. Dangling and wobbling beside the edge of the large wooden table. The spacious oak desk, that I am currently standing on, releases faint groans and tickles my feet with its vibrations.
Oh please! Not another drunken customer walking into my office again!
The windowless and dark oak room falls still. Even the single-lit large candle on my left seems to have fallen silent. Its flame grows dimmer and darker. Just how I like it. Dust dares not to settle on the green-blue fabric accents.
Before I know it my breath has become an inaudible whisper. My furry hands clasp and crinkle the edges of the flaky scroll. My heart beats quickly against my throat without my consent.
A loud knock chimes and echoes like a bird’s morning duet. Then the monstrous, poorly painted, murky green-blue door swings like a fast blast of wind. The muffled state of the cheers turns into a distant boom.
My ears zap inmeditantly to the noise. My head follows and turns to the dusty looming door frame. The shadowy figure in the doorway causes my neck hairs to rise. My throat closes and my heart chokes.
My shadowy purple gaze instinctively analyzes the threat. My brain, in a fraction of a second, sorts and shovels all of the information into a nice little list.
The male figure is 6ft. His round head has no ears or branches protruding his cap. So that eliminates the possibility of being a Loip or a Desert Troll. My large intense gaze can make out his tanned skin. The short beard that lines his face is like the fuzz on a bee. His wide stature blocks my sight of the inky hallway.
The clock hanging by the door releases a single ominous tick. Relief is a thick accent in the sigh that I release. I know this folk. He is not a hungry mangy street rat.
“Enter at once please, Mr. Sutton,”
I beckon him to enter with my high-pitched voice. The human bartender enters at once with his large hands folded behind his back.
His black leather dress shoes clicked as he entered. The weakening flame of the candle makes his dark skin look golden. In fast motions, he weaves and smoothly closes the door with the faintest of clicks. He turns back toward me. His short wiry grey beard protruding out of his square head.
My fox-like ears swivel backward and my brow furrows. A tinge of suspicion runs down my back. My long tufts of black fur brush against my hunched shoulders as I tilt my head. His wrinkly hands clasp in front of his clean buttoned suit.
Mr. Sutton is calm before the storm. I call him a gentle giant. A very nice human.
That is why I am suspicious. I am not a mindless Pulapeep. What terrible news does this Human have to give me? I am unsure, but what I do know is that he will tell me with the calmest tone ever.
“Good evening sir,”
He starts with a calm smile and a stiff bow. His square teeth glow with a faint shimmer. An unconscious shiver ripples down my spine. The outsides of the scroll became dented and worn as I nervously fidgeted. What was the bad news?
“Good evening to you as well.”
I reply with a forced smile. My shark-like teeth give off a yellow glow. What is the issue at hand? Did another fight start? Did someone leave too large of a load in the bathrooms again? Was there an angry customer? Was Mr. Sutton about to quit on the spot?
What was going to make my job a living nightmare?
My dangling tail let out a nervous twitch. The muffled songs from downstairs are ignored as we talked.
“You have news for me, I presume,”
I quickly added. Gritting my teeth as the fastly spoken words rush out of my mouth.
My dark purple eyes study his stature. The dwindling candle produces more than enough light for my large round eyes. My inky pupils overshadow the night violet rim.
The black wrinkly shirt underneath my buttoned white cardigan felt too tight. In such a dark dungeon of a room, I am the only one who can see. But I am blind to what the tall human has in store for me.
I hate being blind.
“Ah yes! I do bring news, my good sir,”
He started politely. It feels as if I am slowly ripping off my fur. All this beating around the bush was making me anxious. Give me the darn news!
“Well, it’s the Leechery sir… They still haven’t sent the shipment. The customers are becoming angry. For our leech stock has run out, my good s-”
Before Mr. Sutton can finish his statement. I find myself interrupting the kind fellow.
“Curse this city!”
I exclaim. Anger runs deep in my veins. My softly furred hands wrestle the partially destroyed scroll. My frustration is like a growing parasite. My square jaw is tilted as a pointed snarl finds itself on my cat-like face. My sharp teeth grind like gears.
“I have a business that runs like a gentle stream. If those leech jockeys think they can jam rocks and sticks in my stream. Well, bless the Lord, save their souls!”
The black fur on my neck is raised. My right hand lets go of the small scroll. My index is raised towards the ceiling and shakes furiously. While my shaky left hand slams the piece of paper with a soft thud.
I am a simple man in a complex city.
Tug at my leash and I’ll bite back.
----
“Just my rotten luck,”
I mutter to myself. My words are drowned out by the call of the merchants.
In all of Grard there are countless shops, restaurants, streets, merchants, fishers, and broken dreams. Yet, in this large city, there is somehow only one leechry. Said business, might I add, having the worst customer service!
I’m just baffled at this point. Is it really that hard to ship your orders on time? How could they constantly mess up such a simple task? A primitive lot they are. Barking whenever they see the milkman go by.
I’ve had enough of their fooling around!
The cool autumn breeze is as soothing as ice that is placed on a sore wound. The lowering sun leaves a purple bruise in the evening sky. My bristling fur looks especially silky due to the natural outside light. My teal muzzle looks stained like an old colored shirt.
The square cobblestone streets force my shoes to shout a series of clicks and clacks. The dusty yellow and green Laughing Lobster sign becomes distant as I briskly walk away. My white trench coat follows me like a bright shadow.
In my time roaming these cold dirty streets. I’ve learned one thing.
For someone my size you have to walk with purpose. Luckily this time I don’t have to fake it. I have an appointment with a patient that I need to knock some sense into.
Kneecaps and long tails fill my vision as I enter the busy street. The light sound of a fiddle calls like a songbird. It’s always such an explosion to my ears whenever I enter a crowded street. Such a loud mess.
The low base of rumbles makes my small body slightly shaking. While the high-pitched screams of playing children make my sensitive ears fold back. A mist escapes my mouth as I huff. Humanoid shadows cast over me. Blocking the lowering sun like a bunch of clouds.
I twitch whenever a Loip touches me with their tail. I glare whenever a human bumps into me.
My long, emotional, angry strides take me forward. I’m like a spear thrown into a pool of fish. Everyone is swimming around me. Dusty barrels, that I could easily fit in, are shrubby on the edges of the road.
Tightly compacted wooden buildings have narrow cobblestone passageways between them. Each alleyway is dark and mischievous. I ignore the apologies and the gawking that I receive. Instead, my attention is focused on the long path ahead.
My perky alert ears twist around my head like a tornado. My hanging tail bounces with each stomp. My white trench coat brushes against my fur. My eyes bounce from subject to subject. I clear my throat as I follow my path.
I sharply take a left and leave the waning sunlight. The safe crowds are a thing of the past as I enter the dark lonely alleyway.
A small stiff hand runs down my long face. My falling furry fingers are tense and jagged.
The unlit dank alleyway is unnerving with its cramped borders. A silver of fading light from above makes the moving shadows look grey. A mile's worth of wooden boxes and ripped trash make themselves known in the short depth. Chipping wooden walls surround me like bodyguards. Up ahead, about hundred Pulapeep paces, the uneven road leads to a faded green outlet of light.
I cannot help but travel into a morbid territory. As the shady aura of this place grabs a hold of my wit.
Just think about it! Me being alone, in a closed area, away from the hustle and bustle of The Laughing Lobster, no friends to keep danger at bay.
It’s a recipe for doom. My doom.
My existence as a Pulapeep has, and always will, lead me astray. Pulapeeps are the type of folk that hides. In fact, the last Pulapeep to enter Grard was named Epimetheus Lalla. She died two hundred seven seasons ago!
The reason for our secret lives is because we are not large folk nor are we strong folk. Our bodies are gems. So when the large folk started to harvest. We did as we always do. We fled. Running to the dark warm forest of the south.
I am a myth, I am a fairytale, and I hate it.
A sound breaks me out of my thoughtful morbid dive. My ears fold back. My angry stomping quiets down to a halt. My bony hands slither their way into my deep pockets.
My heart leaps into my dry throat.
The sound seems to echo as it clicks and clacks. It is not the garbage flying in the wind. It is not the neigh of the lord’s mighty steed. It is the footsteps of a hunter.
It’s an overwhelming sense of dread that hits me first. For I am the hunted.
My coat flies as I twist around. My pounding heart stops as dusty denim pants fill my vision. Before I know it a wicked pressure is applied to my chest. My numb legs stumble as I am pushed sideways. A loud exhaling grunt escapes me as I am easily pinned against the towering wall.
My twitching tail is pinched. It feels as if it is being stepped on. My folded ears brush against the splintering wood. The wind is knocked out of me. My lungs refuse to do their one job.
My eyes widen as a splash of worry clouds them. Fear sews my nostrils together. The pressure against my chest is fiery and intense. From the inside, my heart is rapidly abusing my breast. While being crushed on the outside by the strange outside force.
A hiss escapes me as I finally manage to crane my pounding head. My furry chin protruded into the air. My eyes are ravenous as they consume the formation of my danger.
High up rests a sea of thin long vanilla hair. The snow bush dangles in front of a chubby round face. Strands of hair cover his panicked green gaze. The Human is crouched before me. His casting shadow dims my already dark complexion.
My throbbing head shoots downwards. My chin roughly digs into my neck. A large lanky forearm takes up my entire vision. With skin as smooth as paper. A loose wrinkly sleeve covered his shoulder.
Fingers that are the size of my arm surround me. A tight warm hand is firmly placed against my walloping chest.
A shiver runs down my spine. The beat of my heart echoes in my ears. My breath is forgotten. Instead, all I can do is watch as my body starts to hyperventilate. Panic weakens me like a slow painful death.
What are you doing? Stop it! Let me go!
I wish to shout. But all I can do is wiggle and struggle. While the Human boy watches me with a pained grimace.
I am a slab of meat.
An icy fire starts to burn in my chest. My feet trip over each other as I struggle in place.
Is it pathetic to state that I want to live?
“I’m so sorry,”
A whisper escapes from the agape mouth above. A loud gasp escapes my distressed mask. The crippling rush of cold shock leaves this panicked party. As new painful guests join the scene.
Unlock yourself.
The pressure increases. To say that my chest is burning is an understatement. I grit my sharp teeth. My head feels light. Fear has eaten my brain. Icy adrenaline cuts at my veins. The stifling heat of the hand causes bile to form in my closed throat.
Find the key.
Morbid thoughts of my fate come faster than my pounding head can process. My large pupils turn into narrow snake-like slits. As I am drowning in adrenaline, fear, panic, and trepidation. I find myself only being able to focus on one thing. Survival.
My smaller bony hands easily wiggle out of my folded pockets. In a blur, like a velcro, they latch onto the smooth topside of the large pale hand. My curved razor-sharp black nails penetrate the thin skin with ease.
The pressure lightens as the hand instinctively reels back. A momentary rush of hope swamps me and my decisions. Not wasting a second of precious time I do the uncivilized.
A finger as long as my armrests on my tense shoulder. Without even thinking I open my ravenous mouth. My triangular serrated sharp teeth lock onto the finger. My jaw firmly attacks from below.
I twist my head erratically. My tufts of cheek fluff flying around. Drips of crimson red plop onto my wrinkled dusty trench coat.
Almost instantly the overwhelming evilly warm pressure leaves me be. As the Human boy jerks his hand backward. Sending me flying in his direction.
In a flash, I let go. Trepidation and hysteria caused me to shake like a leaf as I hit the stone road.
In a flash of bristled fur and torn Human skin. I let go.. It’s a miracle that my wobbly legs find traction as I stumble into a sprint. My slitted purple eyes were dead set on the green dim light.
My heart skips a beat as another silhouette appears.
“Help!”
All my hoarse voice manages to cry out.
My feet feel heavy and warm with each desperate step. My breath is burdensome as I dash with the spirits of the wind. My wriggling tail bounces with my march. My mouth is agape as I gasp for air. The shivers won’t stop crawling maliciously down my spine. My light footfalls echo like raindrops in my ringing head.
Safety is so close. I can taste it. The strange silhouette grows large as my short strides move me forward.
The settling sun shines warmly on my fur. My dark pelt shines as I exit the terrifying inky shadows. Only to enter the cold shadow of a giant. My beating heart skips a beat in joy as I gaze upon her familiar face. A distant face that is eight feet up in the air.
As soon as I enter the shade of her shadow, she crouches down. Her wide stance caused brown cotton walls to surround me. Her enormous wiry muscular hands covered her large knee caps. Ridges of muscle and veins covered her thinly furred arms. Each powerful finger was like a grey pillar.
The giant Loip had a long broad snout that was directed down at me. Even though she had lowered herself. Her wedge-shaped black nose was still miles above my head. Her perfectly round hazel eyes looked at me in concern.
Her large figure shielded the blinding attack of the waning sun. Her large floppy dark grey ears were flying slightly due to the breeze. Her puffy wiry fur was a blanket that covered her body.
“Mr. Eadwulf,”
Her raspy voice rumbled in concern. Her red and yellow sheriff uniform shifted as she moved to get a better look at my small form. I can hear the wind blow as her bristling tail wags.
“Are you alright? I smell Human blood on you,”
Her hound-like face is serious.
My sight grows dim as I fight to gain my breath back. Another welcoming cool breeze brushes throughout my fur. I find myself wheezing back into existence.
“Sheriff Nephele,”
I manage to spit out. My tense hands hover over my burning chest. My chest feels heavy like a wet cloth.
“My apologies, I feel like I’m breathing water,”
I clear my dry throat and brush down my ruffle coat. With my defiant right hand, I point a shaky finger at the treacherous alleyway. The Loip tilted her large dog-like head in confusion.
“I-in there, my dear sheriff, a Human attacked me. I am unaware of his intentions. Yet, I have no doubt that they are warped with dark motives,”
My voice cracks. My ruffled fur is bristling. The adrenaline from the chase still pumps strongly in my veins. My long tail twists dramatically as I desperately try to find a way to let go of this surge of energy.
Her brown eyes narrow. Becoming a pair of menacing silts. The tune of her tail wagging came to a sudden halt. The familiar sheriff gazed at the sickening alleyway with a sinister look. Her large hands were threatening as they tensed. Her curled black shimmering fingernails pierced the thick cotton fabric of her pants.
A low rumbling growl escapes her quivering lips. Round sharp teeth bigger than my hand reveal themselves. As she gnashes her large canines. Deep ridges appear on her grey snout. Her ugly snarl takes up my view.
I swallow thickly. My feet slowly move without my knowledge. My wavering tail staggers. My slow hesitant steps take me to the head of her long shadow. I lower my hand slower than the minute hand when it’s my shift.
Seeing an angry Loip, even a familiar one such as Sheriff Nephele, is not for the faint of heart.
Faster than the winds of a hurricane she snaps up. Her grey shadow growing longer as she stands to her full height.
Seeing her at her lethal height does not send a shiver down my spine. But what does is her face. She looks angry enough to kill.
“That explains the scent of blood,”
She said darkly. Her narrow eyes shooting daggers at the shadows of the alleyway. Her shadow twists on the dull cobblestone as she stalks forward. Her large hands are curled into tight fists. Like a trained assassin, she enters the claustrophobic gloom without any hesitation.
As I stand here in my bloody trenchcoat. With the faint breeze and the falling sun. The grey sea of stone surrounding me. The tall wooden buildings standing with an imposing flare. With the phantom pressure on my chest slowly leaving. I cannot help but think, I am a simple man in a complex city.
A city in which salivating dogs are both my enemy and my friend. A city in which my existence as a Pulapeep gathers lethal attention and caring friends. This complex city tries to walk all over me.
The annoying drunk customers, the witless leech jockeys, the mugger in the shadows. They are all fueling this sudden personal rage that is burning inside me.
I am not some rug to be trampled on. I am Quixote Eadwulf.
Once Sheriff Nephele is done with you. I’ll introduce my claws to your face.
I’ve had enough of these filthy dogs. I’m done with throwing bones. It’s time this Pulapeep gets respected by everyone.
That includes you wicked beast of the gloom.
My heart no longer beats in fear or panic. But with the sweet march of revenge.
I enter the inky darkness once more. The gross old trash surrounds me like I’m the popular kid at school. My large eyes quickly adjust to the sudden change in light. The touch of the darkness feels cold against my fur.
My purple eyes are delighted in what they find. The sight brings an admittedly wicked smile to my face. The battle between giants pulls at me like a siren’s song. With each punch that the smaller Human receives I find my need for revenge grows. It’s an overwhelming tide. An itch that bleeds but will never stop screaming for attention.
Sheriff Nephele’s large uniform cloaked my view of the enemy. Her strong Loip features worked in her favor as she restrained the foul creature. This sweet high of vengeance clouded my judgment. As my short strides slowly took me to the scene of the crime.
My fingers danced wickedly as I thought about how I would make the tables turn. How I would make the parasites pay for the wrongs they have left me. Tonight my claws will not open letters but pathetic flesh.
The large Loip in a series of swift twists and turns pins the smaller human against the wall. Her face is feral but her body moves with practiced ease. My friend has her large arm pinned against his pale neck. The mugger squirms but his strength are no match for a Loip. Who are naturally strong and muscular folk.
My ears are cocky as they adjust themselves forward. My feet waver as I casually stroll towards the giants. My light footfalls echo with the merry tune that plays in my head. I look out of place. With my bright smile in the evil darkness.
The desperate grunting that escapes the man’s mouth is like music to my ears. This strong surge of adrenaline makes my clouded gaze twitch.
Finally, I make my way to the battle. I frolic to the left side of the sheriff’s large shoes. I ignore the white dirty shoes that lay on my left side. For I have a ferocious appetite. The main course is making this man suffer and pay.
Grab your drinking buddies and your party friends. Because this sight is going to be fun for the eyes.
I glance upwards. My heart doesn’t soar nor does it roar. It drops to my feet. My tune of wicked revenge is cut short by what my eyes see.
That expression should not belong to that face.
Those adolescent features graze my heart with a cold blade. The realization made my confident playful stature mold into a staggering hunch.
Greasy snow-white hair dangled over those youthful chubby cheeks. His inexperienced breath was choppy and uncomfortable.
A pained grimace replaces my wicked toothy smile. A shaky hand runs down my creased forehead. My shoulders bunch up as disbelief poisons me. My confused breath is cold and hollow as realization dawns on me.
The mugger, the evil lurking in the shadows, the money-driven Human was a kid.
The pure coat of trepidation that covered his face made my pelt burn. The way the kid struggled against the unstoppable Loip made me cringe. The way Sheriff Nephele’s large canines shimmered inches away from the boy's neck made my heart flutter with a tidal wave of unease.
Those grass green eyes weren’t scared they were petrified.
My thoughts ran wild in my racing head. One question sprang into existence only for another pondering question to take its place. Why had the oily-haired human attacked me? What was going to become of me? Where were his parents?
Why was he in the streets?
I find myself swallowing thickly. The sudden cool breeze pushes me with its gentle shove.
I, Quixote Eadwulf, had just sent a grown Loip to beat up a kid. A child who looks no older than twelve.
What kind of black heart do I have? Or am I justified? The young fella did beat me up. Is this glorious payback?
Where do I draw the line? I must be too far in the deep if I have to ask such a question.
“Stop,”
My skeptical hesitant voice screeches out. The sheriff’s head turns rapidly towards my small frame. Her floppy ears fly as her gaze softens to a stern look of confusion.
For the first time in a long time, I felt my facade crumbling. A flash flood feels more stable than my lanky sleek limbs. My purple eyes narrow. While those glossy grass eyes remain wide and tear-stained.
“My good sheriff, have you lost your keen nose and wise brain? He is just a kid! My good friend, you’ve got the wrong sir!”
My long smooth tail twitches downwards. My teal chin hangs like a crooked frame as I lie through my sharp teeth.
Her head was on a swivel as she looked back at the kid. After a long tense pause, her tightly wound fists became loose. The shadows danced on her grey fur as she took a staggering step back.
Her burly arm was no longer rigorously pressed against the pale boy's nape. My entire vision was filled with fast movements from the giants. Like a brown avalanche, the kid fell to the stern dusty ground with a loud thump. Transparent tears dotted his round cheeks.
What are you doing? Stop it! Let me go!
My internal screams from before ring like a deadly chant inside my head. Those scared ringing voices mock me.
My tongue runs over my hidden teeth. The sickening taste of metallic blood overwhelms my tastebuds. A jolt runs down my spine. Purple eyes gaze upon his torn-up hand. Guilt trickles down my spine and bites my lungs.
The poor kid's index finger is a serrated mess. The pink flesh is frayed like the end of a rug. Crimson blood oozes down the chubby digit. The whole finger looked like a rotten tomato.
I did that.
I run a hand down my long face. A wave of guilt overwhelms me.
I bit someone. Like I was some rabid dog. I, a mere business owner, allowed a juvenile street rat to get under my skin.
Stop it! What are you doing? Let me go!
The voices pound against my head. Like a hammer against the skull. They shatter me into pieces.
Anxiety’s cold wrath turns my veins into frozen rivers of blood. I shift in my dress shoes.
Stop it!
I know what is right but it doesn’t help my pounding heart. If anything it skips a couple of beats.
With my left hand I reach into my back pocket. My long black bony fingers fumble with the foreign objects. My choir is the light sobs and hiccups that escape the weeping child.
His pale arms were wrapped against his bobbing chest. His large lip twitched like horse's scratchy fur.
“Here,”
I say softly as my fingers finally clasp something ice cold. Sheriff Nephele's expression remains a blank stare as she takes another staggering step back. My shadow follows me as I take a long stride towards the crying kid. My heart is like a drum against my chest.
Even when he is curled into a pitiful cocoon he is still taller than me. His sprawled-out dusty pants stand still like the walls of a fortress. Sheriff Nephele is like an immovable tower behind me.
What are you doing?
In a graceful motion. I pull the coins out of my pocket. The rising moon distorts their gold tint. I let the coins lead the way as I extend my hand. The round heavy metals were as big as my bony black palm. I grit my teeth as I feel the strain in my arm.
The hiccups slowly cease as the Human gives me a confused glare. His leafy gaze stared at my hand with skepticism. For an extensive period he just simply scanned with a look that suggested that my hand was the plague.
“For your troubles,”
I whispered in the limited light that swallowed us. A knowing tight smile covers my face. My right ear flicks as doubt coils around me.
His sniffles echo in the dank alleyway. Like a waking flower. His fingers slowly open up. His hesitant eyes stare up at the tall sheriff. My large round purples follow his gaze.
Her floppy ears are alert. Her expression remains flat except for the rapid twitching of her wet large square nose.
“It’s a gift,”
Her stern raspy voice crackled like thunder in the autumn air. She gave a forceful nod as she spoke with authority.
My gaze and head turn back to the Human in front of me. Our eyes meet. My tail twitches uncomfortably. My pelt feels heavy with those scared eyes locked onto me. I’m a Pulapeep. I’ve never been a source of fear.
I hold my breath as he slowly reaches out. His larger pastel-colored hand reaches toward my minuscule black furry hand. A series of slight involuntary shudders escape my statue of a stature. As the person who potentially had tried to rob me of my life was now grazing their leathery skin against my wiry fur.
As the stars shine dimly above us. And as the papers and pieces of scrap trot around us as the nighttime coughs out a gust of cold air. With a Human who probably wants to sell my pelt for money.
I cannot help but think about the leech jockeys that I need to yell at.