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"Man, that was too easy," Benny said with a laugh. The wings moved slightly. Blood dribbled from a headless neck. He winced. Really too easy. Ah, shit. What if they were pets?
Benny shot a guilty look at the house, scanning the windows. He shoved the duck into the reeds and dived again. From her hiding place the hen looked on with complete disinterest. A new male would show up and replace the old one. It was the way of things. Woman is born to life, the male but to die. Nothing lasts for very long, but for earth and sky.
Hey:O:wa, Listen to the Sacred-Wolf of God.
Benny heaved up on the half-rotted dock. He tried to distance himself from the scene of the crime, so to speak. He smiled. New Modus Operandi for 'Young Stud.' Twisting off the heads his victims instead of axing them, yo. Hey, like Carl always said, Everybody gotta have a hobby, ist? His ulcer flared, mocking the humor of the situation.
The yearling colt snorted. A devil gleaming in his eyes, he stretched his elegant neck to sniff at Benny's clothes scattered on the bank of his pond.
"Hey. Skunk face," Benny yelled. Get away from my stuff." At the bellow of rage coming from the naked man, the colt snorted and tossed his head. The boot he held in his teeth swung up and smacked him in the eye. The colt squealed. The boot sailed up, over the pond to splash down in the reeds on the far side. The chrome chain of the wallet glittered at Benny for a moment, then sank into the black depths of the pond.
"You rotten little prick."
Benny dived back into the pond. Frantic, the wallet held the last of his money, Benny sought it. He was forced up for air, then dived again. His fingers clawed through the mud and closed on it. Then he found the knife. The bandanna was a red, white, and blue flag, fluttering on a reed.
Half submerged in the chilling waters, the headless mallard lay nearby.
"All sins got to be paid for somehow." Benny sneered at the mallard and swam back to his clothes.
Murder in his eye, he swam to the bank. The colt leered at Benny. He turned and raced away, the blanket waving over his head.
"Ahhhh, shit."
Benny exploded from the water, slamming his boot and wallet on the ground. "Chri-sake," he shouted. Benny shook his fists at the racing horses and the rising sun.
Two Swords smirked. "Funny, ain't it?" he said to no one in particular. "All sins gotta be paid for, right, 'heart?" On his back, macana a-Heart-a'-Fire, giggled.
"Yeah. Our kid's his own worse enemy."
They both nodded, watching Benny race after the young colt and the waving blanket.
"Think he'll catch him?"
Heart's money was on the bay colt. From the reeds a tsi:ge:O woman laughed.
Two Swords reached across the pond and helped the tiny elf with the mallard. The woman's man nodded his thanks and motioned to his wife to bring the travois. A giggling smaller person came out of the tall grass and rustling dead weeds. A quail that pulled the travois poles trailed her. A pack of children followed, shrilling like a, well, a pack of wild Indian, which they were, only much, much smaller.
"Dohi:yi, Spirit-Fire-Person."
"O:tsi:Yu, Mother. You guys must sure like duck." The drake was falling apart under the flashing stone knives of the woman, her sister, and her man.
"Huh," the woman said. Her eyes shined in droll humor. "We like to eat. It's been a hard winter for all of us." Her eyes took in Benny, hard on the colt's heels. "For all of us,
aga:ki."
For the third time Benny stumbled and bounced hard on a tussock of grass and glanced off the plank fence. Rubbing at the bruise growing under a white, dusty smear of paint, he got up, shot the colt a look of pure evil and limped back to the pond. Benny dressed in the wet jeans and staggered to the house. The colt flagged the now ragged blanket, begging for another run. All Benny needed now was for the woman to see it. If she did, one word out of her and she was . . . was dead meat.
Face calm, Millie met him at the door with a towel.
"Please don't feed this one to the horses. They have delicate digestion, I'm told." She huffed. "I guess you're clean enough to come in now." Millie backed away. His boots dropped to the porch with a sodden thump. He glared at her.
Millie bit off the smile. "Bathroom's upstairs and to your right, Benny." He stalked passed, baring his teeth at the floor when a giggle escaped the tightly held mouth. Still raging at the colt, he took the stairs three at a time. First door on the right, he dodged in and skidded on the rug.
"Yo," he whispered. All brass and porcelain. "Now you know how the bull felt in the china shop. Geezis. Mom would love this," he said in awe. Ten times better than the cheap steel and plastic Anna had in her bathhouse.
"Some day, Mom," he said in a fervent whisper, "I swear you're gonna have something like this setup."
"Strip," came a strident command from the elaborate panels of the door. "I want your dirty clothes."
The magic of the room fled, Benny ducked his head. Yanking off the jeans, he added them to the sodden heap on the floor.
Millie tapped on the door. "Move it."
Benny shivered. A history teacher. He really was doomed.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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