Sky Mesa Ladrón

The onslaught’s dirty– claws, blood, flung grit and gnashing teeth.
The hound kept on him.
Man squirms like a crappy suspended in a net. Thrashing.
Scales poking.
Niño’s head whips faster.

Maybe he can free him of this leg.
Maybe he can scare the piss outta him.

Nino didn’t need to fight for pride, for gang colors, for territory or drug turf.
He fights for fun.

“Do something you love for a living and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

When his jaws open up it’s only to lunge at the man again, this time as he’s nabbing for Jefe’s tail. The boy aims to clamp down on a front paw and begin dragging if successful.