Sheepeater Cliff it's the end/friend of mine

The air is saturated with the red sunset. Tiny blonde hairs dance up and down in the light over her back, down her legs, the hollows behind her knees, this Brownian jittering ... a gaze bitter like alkaloids, nitrogenous and seething ... she subliminates into the sky.

And what did she have to say? Was she there at all? walking zombie-like while the Earth turned and her Circadian cycle with it, tilting to and fro? a cosmic bobblehead doll? And how far was too far?

She nudges a sheep's corpse well on its way to decomposition. Inside and all around it there are millions of microorganisms that are unmaking. Some Georgia O'Keefe display. 

Of course when looking into its eyes, there is nothing. But a few weeks ago those hollows would've had mild eyes. Dumb rheumy eyes that dreamed herbivore dreams. 

Bailey sneezes; she lands on her butt and sits there, for a while.

yoink dis mine

a sneeze somewhere nearby -- riley stood at attention, feeling a prickle of unease tease his ruff.

he can smell the various, overwhelming scents of decomposition; of organs softening into the dirt and darkening it a wine-red, of the waxing scent of flesh curling, the edging of mucous and matter souring into a pulpy mash.

normally, it'd be delectable cuisine -- but riley was unsettled by the sneeze.

"who was that?" the male called as he came around a secondary bend. here, the author of such a noise was obvious -- a rakebone waif sitting amid the cairn-pit.

something about the charnel display made riley's heartbeat go up. stupidly, he remained.

Here she is a connoisseur of silences. She could arrange all the types of silences into their own periodic table. This one was -- broken silence. 

Who was that?

There's an intense flurry of movement, snapshot panic. Bones clutter -- there goes a rib, is that a wishbone already split in half? the skull falling end over polyhedral end -- the salty petrol-like smell of fear wafting from her quickly hardening into aggression. 

What dyou want? The dark boy is around the same age as her but bigger and her question is serrated all the same. Better tell me, or, or get the hell away.

Her breaths come heavy through gritted teeth.

poor riley, always finding viragos when he was looking for his juliet.

he stumbled backwards, plainly taken by surprise. the chestnut wolf had gone from silent to suddenly pirhana; all teeth and threatening presence that had him regretting his approach in the first place.

he fumbled, as he was wont to do when presented with a fiercely beautiful, terrifyingly intimidating she-wolf. "oh -- shit. i was just.. looking for food." something told him the food he'd scented wasn't about to be shared -- and he wasn't about to ask either.

Secretly she had hoped that he would bare his teeth back at her but instead he crumples backwards, boneless. Turgid guilt surges up in her. Petroleum that gutters up through gaps in the earth. Choked by aggression and remorse, black and red blooming across her vision in alternating bands. 

Whatever, she seethes, which is the closest she will get to saying sorry. Eat this and you'll be sick.

Bailey remained unaware under that tense forehead that she had scared him more than he had scared her. Fur spiked upwards, thickened by the lukewarm stench that rose from the ground wave after wave.

Still no warmth to be found, for all her honey hues. Riley began to regret his approach, despite the rumbling of his belly.

He had less interest in whatever it was Bailey was near, moreso because she evoked in him feelings of mortal terror. Slow as his wit was, he knew her kind well enough -- for one would say he had been borne to a similar, virtuless hold.

He shook his head. "No thanks. I'll find something else." And yet he hung there uncertain a moment longer, as if waiting for Bailey to say anything else or tell him to fuck off.

He didn't wait long. Turning his back on her made chills climb up his spine -- Riley got the hell out of dodge.