Firefly Ravine Bleak

Father, mother, and son run united. Njord’s supply of adrenaline feels unlimited, though the body that pumps it feels no more put together than a haphazard Rube Goldberg machine.

Meerkat leads. Stingray is in his periphery. Suddenly, the group skids to an abrupt halt. His wife’s arm prevents them from nosediving into the ravine.

A call on the wind. His wife hears it too. “Swordfish!” Njord bellows. “Quennell!”