Cibola 77

This entry is part 76 of 119 in the series Cibola

 

Esteban (4) (conclusion)

She’s gone. He collects
his scattered clothes–through
what magic had she
recovered hers?
And
his thigh still tingles from
a sudden brush of fur.
He kicks sand
to put the fire out–to hell
with any more tracking
–& feels
his way back in the half-
dark of gibbous moonlight,
avoiding the shadows.

When he slips into camp
everyone’s asleep & the fire’s
down to coals, as if it’s been hours.
One of the greyhounds works his jaws,
whines a little. Esteban kneels,
reaches down to stroke his head

& stops, noticing that his eyes
remain shut & his feet twitch
in sequence–the unmistakable
rhythm of the chase.

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