Ankyra Sound in memory of sniffy cole

hungry.
he skips through cold water as the tide sucks out.
a starfish here, old bones of a sturgeon there.
the waterline grows lower and lower
as a silver moon gnaws on the horizon.

sobeille would learn in time nothing was more beautiful than a winter moon.

she couldn't sleep. the snores of her family flushed her from the den and out to the cliffs.

she almost imagined a wail on the wind punctuated by the faintly imperceptible plip-plop of water.

sobeille found herself along the rocky shores of ankyra. the tide had pulled away, revealing fractured teeth of limestone.

her eyes trained on a figure in the distance.

another gurgle.
another fragile shell.
his stomach knots at all this salt,
all this meager meat 
that barely holds his bones together.

he hears rather than sees
a lean figure pull from shadows
her eyes lamplight and curious
he waves his tail,
a sniff;

hoping in that childish way
that this stranger of the night
might take pity upon him
and show him the simple kindness
of polite company
and a warm meal.

sobeille did not know what to make of this man and cursed that he'd seen her. she hoped to watch him, but he was too attuned to his environment.

her fur stood on end as he sniffed, but it was the wave of his tail that softened her posture. ey, sobeille ventured, feeling as the tidal wind raked past them both in a spit of saltwater. what you be doin'?

it was not in her nature to trust strangers, but it was late and she very wide awake.

there were wolves of this world
of sharp teeth and sharper mind,
he's not one of them
he's just hungry
and standing before a girl

an amazon girl,
he decides
its the posture and rounded shoulders
that jut of her chin.

i was looking for food,
he explains, looking past her
where cliffs rise like the proud arch of a stallion's neck.


he thinks of acatenango
of warm caves that hide certain death
but he's drawn back to her,
it's the clinical dance of her eyes
as she looks him up
and then down.
friendly,
but not your friend.

in hindsight, it was obvious what he was doing. sobeille disguised a scoff.

for a time, it looked as if he was staring past her. sobeille's head turned, following his gaze to the cliff and then turning back quizzically. had he seen something?

he said nothing further. sobeille studied their surroundings in silence. the tide was low, the night quiet. while her family was miles away, she knew they were deep in slumber.

i know where food be.

What have we here. 

Their audience wondered, crouched up high among the rocks and shrinking smaller and lower as their eyes turn upward briefly. Tall ears cupped at the whisper of food on the wind.

Cameo! Feel free to tag if either of them notices him.

which is better?
trust your gut
or feed your gut?
he's caught at a crossroads
a crossfire in those eyes.

in the end he does what any dog does
his eyes
his mind
his body
all ruled by the contents of his stomach.

i could eat.

somewhere above the cliffs, another pair of eyes watched. the wind and the salt conspired, blowing the owner's scent well out of sobeille's detection.

a slight smile creased her lips. of course he could eat.

i some'times come here and store food in de grotto. sobeille's half-truths were becoming sincere, taking on their own lives. my family lives in de cliffs above.

she'd not forgotten andr.

i can go get it. something about inviting the man into the grotto made her skin crawl. sobeille could not put her finger on it. he was harmless -- reminding her of the soft bodies of cnidarians that crested the shore. only trouble if you did not know which end to address them.

sobeille turned, though she kept her ears trained behind her as she bid for the grotto's mouth.

what were the odds,
a beachcombing man
an amazonian girl
all framed under the same
wax yellow and
indifferent moon.
he thinks there's a pause there,
but he can't read too much into it;
shadows and all.

he nods. her thin back turns
and she's trotting.
for a time he turns his head
to the indigo sky
eyes closed as the wind
combs through his fur
and bites at the crook of his belly.

it can't all be bad,
he thinks.

all the while
there's a man watching on the cliff top
ears flat to his skull
and gaze drawn full bore
on the sights below.

Food kept in a grotto. How interesting.

Where she tread, his eyes followed to note where she might disappear from their reach and where his nose would have to pick up the trail.

finding her cache was easy. sobeille navigated the cold halls of the grotto, feeling along the flowstone as she went.

though she had yet to revisit the chamber's moonstone center, she'd made habit of storing sundries in the ceremonial chamber.

ever since andr, anyway.

sobeille emerged from the grotto carrying the half-rotted hind of a hare. the meat that clung to it held a rancid odor, and she held it between her teeth gingerly so her tongue did not touch its flesh.

she half-expected the man would move on, but he was just where she left him. sobeille dropped the meager ration on the ground, preparing to slide it to him when she paused.

wait. sobeille commanded, a sense of unease rifling through her fur. she sniffed the air and peered around them. so far as she could see, only the shore and the nightbirds were their company.

before i give dis to you, you 'ave to promise me some'ting. sobeille measured him with a hard stare. notting is free. i give dis to you in exchange for bones. but not just any bones, see. sobeille hissed, head lowering. seal bones, okay?

what if this was all
just the universe's idea
of some huge joke
a trickster coyote
puling the strings
of a sappy and foolhardy dog?
he waits for a shape to appear
in that yawning chasm
that the girl called a grotto.
waiting
in disbelief
until a shape breaks the blackness
the amazonian
her lamplight eyes glinting
two sulfurous crescent moons
suspended over a black sea.

he almost dives for the rabbit
his stomach bucks as she withholds it
a seal, she says
bones.
easy
like taking candy from a baby
only
he's not so sure
this baby doesn't pack fangs.

he glances around them.
just the moon and the stars,
and the soft sigh of the impatient sea.
i can do that.
he promises,
eyes longingly on that delicate haunch.

Seal bones. Why would she trade flesh for bone. The grotto — did it have enough meat that she could part with a meal for the pleasure of a favorite chew? He could not see himself bartering venison for a feather.

sobeille's gaze rested upon him, prying until she was certain he understood.

almost begrudgingly, she slid the haunch to the stranger. when you be findin' it, you bring it dere. she jerked a paw to the cliffs behind her. dat be sapphique. you tell dem sobeille sent you.

little did she know her cache was now imperiled. she expected the man would have the grace to leave her wares alone -- but she did not account for the eyes on the cliff.

one more t'ing. sobeille rose to her full height with a shake of her ruff. while she was hardly anyone's definition of tall, her thin frame carried her maman's command. don't go in de grotto. dere be loa dere.

certain he understood, sobeille turned -- but not before one last measured glance the wayfarer's way.

it took all of his willpower
to remain seated
a pleasant guest
at sobeille's feast.
he trained his eyes upon her.
sapphique.
the kingdom perched upon the cliff.
he wondered
if she were amazon
what her mother must look like;
halcyon or harpy,
made no difference if in the end
it was men they felled.
okay. he breathes,
inhaling the scent of putrid rabbit
his back arches
his neck thrown down
as he goes at it
in the rough manner only a dog can
vigorous
and a little desperate
until there's nothing but flecks on his cheek
and a new weight to his stomach.

he's about to thank her
but she's already gone,
now it's just him
and the coyote trickster
the eyes in the cliff
and he thinks not for the first time,
that fate is a strange she-wolf.

he'll have to sleep,
for tomorrow he hunts seal.

There was what in the grotto? Or was it a who perhaps?

Canting his head, he strained to listen, but the wolves had said enough to one another. The one savaged the flesh while the other left paw prints in the sand and snow.

He would not be long biding his time. The male departed soon after, and the watcher on the cliffs descended. Nothing of the haunch of hare remained but a snout-wrinkling scent which was not mere decay. The coyote slipped along the hot trail leading to the grotto and its chamber cache, only to be disappointed when he found that same scent concentrated amongst some of the meat that remained.

Despite what was ruined and left untouched, he exited with a full stomach, still questioning what or who else was supposed to be in there.

But that was not all his curiosity chewed on as he went his way.