Lion Head Mesa pull up the intruder by the root of the weed

His breathing was at a purely autonomic level as he lay there. Someone might have thought he was asleep. Flies buzzed around his body, landing here or there upon his face, and lingered. A buzzard had taken notice of this body and the wolf lingering above it on the ledge, and circled lazily upon the higher, hotter air.

Would it get a meal today?

The sound of the wolf blowing a raspberry earned a crackling grunt. He opens his eyes a sliver and one of the flies lifts and spirals before his lashes, landing further, on his snout.

Drusk lifts from where he's laying—not entirely aware he is doing it—and takes a few steps towards the wall, and sinks to his haunches again, then flattens to his belly in a fresh sprawl.

Maybe, maybe...