Dawnlark Plains moments

He was released.

Without a second thought, he scuttled a bit further away. Out of grasp in a hunkered position. He never liked the yellowed teeth on him, but the message of them was always clearer than words.

Dyin'.

He thought he had heard that sound before. Hunting, scrapping with coyotes. It usually meant the end of something.

What did all of this have to do with the end?

He dared to scuttle his way back a bit closer. Almost apologetic in nature, hoping that The Big Man would let him close. Without teeth this time.