i sold your rope for a bucket of lemon peel, now suck it

all welcome!!

oddleif spent his night cloistered in the treeline, stowed away amongst bushes in a remissisve attempt to withdraw from prying eyes. he found his feet at the threshold of another morning come. from the croon of birds, from the mincing steps of deer, from the sunbeams shackled by the coulee grass rising from their sepulchers in the sleet, he took his cue.

well, more or less.

the bedtime-committed wolf sat erect in position, head slumped between his shoulderblades and his ears airplaned as he fought drowsiness. his eyes, crusted over with sleepy dust, protested the sunlight that tapped on his lids and he swayed back and forth, head jerking upwards every now and then when the crisp snap of twigbreak plucked him back from the soupiness of unconsciousness.

but leif became inevitably distraction-deaf. within moments, the beanie baby flopped over like an old, unsupported stuffed animal to the earth, rusty snout smushed up against the soil and his forelegs lolled to each side – his keister, ever the trooper, managing to remain parked upright despite gravity having collected the top-end of him.