Ankyra Sound five twenty six, nineteen ninety.

nahualii.
now that causes him to sit up straight
eyes narrowing
on the small and almost inconspicuous
beast.
old shadows, old spirits.
who sent you, he almost asks
curbing his alarm
as another jolt of discomfort
rifles around his belly.
maybe it was
just one of life's small ironies.
but really, how many wolves
south of the sierra madre oriental
would be here of their own accord?
if it was up to him
he'd be trawling on a bright bay
some five thousand miles
from here.
not in this cold sound,
by this hard tree.
the bark digs into his fur as he plays it casual.
no worries, friend.
he almost says amigo
to ease the tension.
until he remembers this man
very well may be his asesino.
make that two creepy creatures
in two hours.

the north man,
it's fucked up.
i'm cayetano.
who sent you?