Whitefish River Feel it still

“dad—?”

Buzzard’s incessant rambling finally came to an end when the kid spoke up. Dad? they repeated as they did a 360. They snickered briefly. I think you might have a couple screws loose. That’s what happens when you spend a couple days with a guy as annoying as them. But just as they finished that sentence the kid’s name was called out, followed by another much louder holler.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Fun’s over, search party’s here. Well, it was only a matter of time before some crying parent came looking for their missing crotch fruit. If they found a coyote near their precious brat, who knew what they’d do? Probably rip a tail off. Or an ear. Or both. They’d lose something, so best high tail it out of here right? 

Maybe Buzzard was the one with the screws loose, cause they chased after the kid. As they ran all Buzzard could think was: what the fuck. Why were they doing this? Risking their neck and for what? 

As the scent of wolf grew closer, they slowed down. Buzzard came to a complete stop when the trio came into view. They arrived just in time to hear the assumed-to-be father worrying over his patch of felt.

He’s fineeee, Buzzard called. Holy shit why are they talking right now? If Condor were here he’d smack the shit out of them and drag them away by the ears. Too bad the voice of reason was absent. Kid’s been following me for days. Kept him fed and breathing. No need to thank me.

Buzzard’s eyes shifted to Peregrine. One last look. Maybe that’s what they wanted. One last look at the most annoying kid before they went off on their again. 

So uhhh, I’d appreciate you not ripping my tail off when I leave. Right now. As they said this they were slowly backing away, and would soon turn and speed walk the hell out of here if they weren’t interrupted.