Iktome Plains mujhe buddha mil gaya

set afternoon of march 10

he didn't need a calendar in front of him to know that aditya was older now than any wolf he'd ever known.

his parents, his mentors, his friends—none, to his knowledge, had reached their eighth year.

he felt it in his bones, in the way his gait was slower. everything was slower; haye bhagwaan, he pissed slower! his once burly form had diminished slightly; the alien black collar 'round his neck hung more loosely.

his eyes were still sharp, but sad, a knife-edge glint of pain lingering even when he smiled.

aditya traipsed the plains, looking for easy game. still quick enough to snare a rabbit. . .if he got lucky. he'd learned to tolerate the taste of carrion, a quick meal for no effort. but fresh meat still sated the belly better than anything else.

he lowered his nose to the ground as he walked, ears swiveling and nostrils flaring, searching for the barest hint of a hare or its warren.