Shy Deer Steppes in the junkyard, it's every dog for himself.

his breakfast was long gone, leaving the clattering of stone in their bounding wake. 

shoko turned once to watch the round bottoms of the sheep flee, then turned back.

the woman was closer now. her skulking flame-furred guard remained sheathed by the early morning fog. something about how she stopped unsettled the wanderer. 

he turned his head to the left, then to the right curiously; apprising her out of two glinting eyes as if each might see their own distinct interpretation of satsu.