Work Text:
Wile couldn’t tell you what it was that set his roadrunner apart from all the others. Why he chased it for years on end. It was simply like no other. Something about how it seemed to look for him, how it always came back. Yes, Road Runner was a special creature. A force of nature. Something Coyote would starve and overwork himself for. But why?
~
Road Runner ran. It ran because there was nothing else to do. Stillness was tiresome, and frankly not in its nature. It had been put here to run; to move the air and to gift a lucky few its athleticism.
Running like Road Runner runs is lonely, sometimes. For hundreds of years it ran through the still desert, and for hundreds more years it would continue. The loneliness was only interrupted by the coyote. Road Runner didn’t know his name; it couldn’t ask, and he didn’t tell. But the coyote ran with it, every day.
The first time it saw him, it ignored him. Every once in a while it was followed, by a curious lizard or ravenous predator, but none for long.
But the next day, when it saw him again, it became intrigued. Normally, the same creature wouldn’t follow it twice.
The third day confused it. The coyote was hungry, it knew that much. He wanted to eat it. It knew that too. But why chase the same unattainable prey three days in a row?
Road Runner assumed the coyote would be gone soon, until the traps began to appear. Obvious traps. Signs claiming free birdseed right beneath a bolder, a bear trap right in the middle of the road. It entertained every one, of course. The coyote kept it company, and it would make sure he stuck around.
Road Runner still had one lingering fear. While it would run forever, the coyote would soon grow old and tired. He would stop chasing it, and he would someday die. Every night it would hope and beg the beings who were so cruel to put it there to please, not be so cruel again. Let it keep its coyote, don’t make it lonely again.
As the years went on, the morning became more and more frightening for Road Runner. Each day could be the day it lost its coyote. But years turned into decades, and the coyote was still there, spry as ever. Could it be? Had they answered?
~
Wile E. added a tic mark to his cave wall. 14,000 days since his last meal. He needed that Road Runner. He needed to devour it. After 70 some-odd years-- wait, how many years? Wile E. dropped the chalk he had been using, backing up into a pile of Acme products that promptly came careening down at him. [God****it] said the sign that went flying as they buried him.
A moment to think. His father died at 15, while Wile E. was still so young. And he had been hunting a roadrunner for more than 70 years? How was he alive? 14,000 tic marks. He hadn’t eaten in more than 38 years. Why was he alive? Why was his Road Runner alive? How were they--
The pile of junk on him exploded, leaving him burnt to a crisp but free. Something was strange about this Road Runner of his, even stranger than he had thought…
~
Another birdseed trap. Road Runner pecked away at the birdseed, wondering what trap its coyote had set for it today. Something convoluted, probably, it thought, before hearing a snap and finding itself in a cage. Just a cage? Snapped so fast? This wasn’t right. The Road Runner whipped around, searching for the perpetrator. It couldn’t be its coyote, he would never--
There stood the coyote holding a sign. [We should be dead.]
Beep beep Road Runner said solemnly. Coyote fumed. Right. He doesn’t speak roadrunner.
[You should]
The coyote pointed emphatically at the word we. Road Runner shook its head and pointed at the word you.
We.
You.
We.
You.
We.
[I am immortal]
The coyote dropped his sign. He points at Road Runner, shaking, face fallen. Then he slowly points up. Road Runner nods. Coyote points up again, and then at Road Runner, and then the ground. Why are you here? Road Runner simply shrugs.
Coyote points at himself. Why me? Road Runner points up and shrugs. The coyote is silent, immobile, confused. This cage was flimsy. Road Runner began to get restless. It could simply run right through this cage. It could startle the coyote with a beep beep and run away. But for some reason it couldn’t. The coyote needed this moment. So instead, it held up a single sign.
[What is your name?]