Coyotes & Curves Read Online Free PDF

ya’?”
    “The buffalo are the sustenance of the plains, Kearney – Without them, most of the plains inhabitants will suffer...or die,” he adds, unable to hide his disapproval.
    “Exactly,” Major Kearney agrees, smiling.
    “Soft, doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Red adds…

~
    MANY MOONS AGO
     
    It was early morning when the invaders struck the camp; moving through swiftly and cutting down the entire population in less than a half an hour. The Indian scouts had moved in first, scattering the horses, followed closely by the Cavalry brandishing curved swords and firing pistols; indiscriminately killing everyone they encountered. Bodies lie everywhere, tore to pieces and covered in blood; with buzzards moving in as the Evil ones began returning from whence they came – leaving only a few Indian scouts, with orders to kill any survivors.
    The young boy was in shock, huddling closely to the, once beautiful, but now mangled body of his mother – lying dead before him – a sabre’s slash exposing her guts, which spill onto the ground into a pool of twisted intestines. The Indian toddler, on hands and knees, cries loudly – his wails becoming howls, as he shifts into a coyote cub – crying and yelping about, grieving over his mother’s lifeless body.
    A lone Indian scout—having witnessed the boy turning— shouts frantically, waving his arms and dismounting his horse; intensely, frightened by the small ghostly entity. Quickly, he begins hurling multiple stones at the small cub. Hitting it abruptly, making it squeal; and chasing it away from the dead woman’s body and into the thick scrubby oaks surrounding the Indian camp – making sure it’s cleared out of sight, he remounts his horse and rides off in a gallop with dirt flying up from the hoofs of his bolting horse as they disappear from sight.

Alone the toddler waited for hours, thinking surely someone would return for him. But they never did. And so he wondered off alone; whimpering and crying as made his way into the darkness of an unknown world full of mystery and fraught with dangerous perils at every turn. He walked until his body could no longer travel; his muscle too weak from lack of food and water, and his mind becoming delirious and slowly succumbing to the animal inside – he lied on the ground and fell asleep.
    “Awake, young Quan-tah.” The voice was deep and powerful, resonating inside of the boy; startling him into consciousness – his eyes opening, hoping to see the powerful square jaw of his father – But the face is not that of his father. It’s a large buffalo; who straddles over the tiny boy cub, staring down intently through large shiny black orbs. His mane is ruffled and matted, hanging loosely around a huge face; and a squared, black nose—wet and moist— sniffs with nostrils flaring.
    “Me Quan-tah,” the toddler speaks, poking a small finger to his naked chest. His lips are parched and cracked, and his body covered with red scratches and small streaks of dried blood; coming from the hours spent alone traversing over the plains in the dark of the night (His little soul unknowingly shifting from the body of a less than three your old human, to that of a small coyote cub throughout the night in an attempt to survive.)
    “Yes, little one, you are. And I am Sogwili Wa’Toli,” he spoke, slowly; filling the boy with the wisdom of a thousand years…

~
     
    The strained moment is broken by the entrance of the Mayor of Rock Ridge, Alistair Finklestein; who stumbles in with his arms full of papers, some dropping to the floor as he tries to close the door, juggle papers and push his slipping round wire rimmed glasses upon his nose at the same time – even his human form looks like a weasel. “Gentlemen-gentlemen, sorry I’m late,” he stutters as he makes his way to the desk in front of Red; who watches in disgust, with the others at the obviously nervous man. He knows, what he’s been doing is wrong; and he wishes