The lamprey eel centipede was a common creature from Yellow Heaven. They would sometimes leak out of paradise and run about Earth. Typically they kept to themselves, eating only wild animals since the hustle and bustle of humankind kept them at arm’s length. This wasn’t a problem in small quantities. They were looked upon with favor by the gods, given the only animals they ate were often considered pests. They were skittish and fearful of godspawn as well. This meant they were never of any concern to the gods in the slightest.
This one was different. Testimony from eyewitnesses reported it being nearly as large as a school bus. Big enough to warrant a nickname among the pantheon of Earth: Eelzilla. Something this big wouldn’t stick to eating vermin for much longer. It was only a matter of time before Coyote figured it would start becoming an unmanageable threat. She took a swig from her drink, setting it down on her desk and letting the tinkle of ice against glass ring in her ear. A nice reprieve from the monotonous drone of the air conditioning. She read through the information again. Then once more.
Nothing she read explained how this celestial creature got this big. She had a few working theories, but nothing she could prove concretely. Was it maybe the monster’s diet? More energy harvested from Yellow Heaven? Or perhaps it was just a one-off mutation. In any case, she’d read through enough to warrant hunting it out in the open now. Who knew how much time was left until it would hunt again. As long as she could take it down before it started wandering too close to a more populated locale, everything would work out.
Coyote finished her drink and stared at the empty glass. She could speculate and plan all night, but the longer she waited the higher a chance it could hurt someone. Just as she pushed in her chair, there came a knock on her door. Her head snapped in the direction of the noise. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe. The only sound available to her was the synchronized humming of fluorescent lights and air conditioning.
No one should know where her room was. It was too deep within the twisting halls of Nakutama’s domain. Even if you had a map and a compass, the god of lost and found could easily have someone lose their way. She specifically requested Nakutama put her room deep enough that-
“Coyote! Open up! It’s Scritch!”
Her breath escaped in an irritated sigh. Of course it was Scritch. He could barely get out of the building on his own but somehow he’d stumbled across her private sanctum. She opened the door and stared down the headless young man. He shrunk back immediately, her fixed gaze turning him spineless.
“What?” she asked curtly, crossing her arms. Scritch cleared his nonexistent throat. She already seemed upset. He figured it’d be best to lay off the snark. Serious Scritch time.
“Nakutama wants to talk to you about the eel centipede thingie. And, uh, I kinda do too because that sounds amazing.” Scritch held his hands behind his back. He waited for an answer from her but she seemed content leering at him. He patiently bounced on the balls of his feet. He did this for some time, but she just kept staring. As he was about to speak, she broke the silence for him.
“How did you find my room?”
Scritch simply shrugged. “Nakutama told me where it was?” Coyote pushed her way past him, the headless hunter-to-be following closely behind. He’d seen her upset before. His snark usually irritated her, but he’d barely said a word to her. Had he broken some unknown code of the hunters? Were all rooms supposed to be private? It would make sense. As they hurried down the hall he took note of the fact that all the doors were identical. He wouldn’t have been able to find Coyote’s room without the help of his boss.
“Stay here,” Coyote barked. Scritch jumped a little and watched her stomp through the door into Nakutama’s office, slamming it behind her. The only door that looked different due to its coloring. Almost indistinguishable from the others. It was as if the color white was thinking about the color blue.
“Why the hell does Scritch know where my room is?” Thankfully it wasn’t a thick door. So Scritch decided to do as he was told and stood next to the door. Maybe a little closer.
“Oh no, my feet are tired,” he said to no one in particular. “Better rest against this wall.” Then he moved next to the door and did his best to eavesdrop.
“Coyote! What a pleasant surprise.” Nakutama didn’t sound at all perturbed. Then again, Scritch couldn’t remember him having any fluctuations in his voice at all. He kept himself composed at nearly all times. It made irritating him that much more fun.
“Answer my question.” Coyote’s demand was firm. For someone who always told him to respect Nakutama’s position as a god, she seemed awfully comfortable yelling at him.
“Coyote…” sighed the god. “It’s one person. He just wanted to see you.”
“You promised me I’d have my own private room. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
“I can’t keep wiping the minds of my employees just because you need an absurd amount of privacy. For God’s sake, Coyote, Humphrey’s short-term memory is suffering. Did you know he tried putting bean paste in the coffee machine?”
Humphrey? Oh no! Scritch really liked him. He was a nice little imp. Made good coffee, actually. He wasn’t a guy who deserved to have his memory wiped.
“Then wipe Scritch’s memory. You haven’t done it before. It won’t affect him.” The god hesitated. There was silence in the room. Then he heard the sound of papers rustling.
“I can’t do that,” Nakutama admitted.
“Bullshit.” Coyote’s words were quick and sharp.
“It’s true. I can’t remove any of the information I’ve given him from his memory. My only guess is because that spell requires my magic to pull it directly from his brain.” There was another long pause. Scritch could practically feel his teacher simmering in frustration. The god relented, as told by a long and exasperated sigh. “Fine, Coyote. Once you take care of Eelzilla I will move your room. I’ll even put it deeper in the building. Does that suit your tastes?”
“It does.” Footsteps approached the door and Scritch scrambled to get a little further away. “And by the way, ‘Eelzilla’ is a stupid name.” Then Coyote swung open the door and slammed it closed once more. She took a deep breath and turned her eyes to Scritch.
“Listening in on people’s conversations is rude.” Coyote’s growl was just as threatening as her namesake.
“I actually don’t have ears. I can’t hear anything.” Now that he knew he wasn’t the target of her fury, he felt more at ease to be himself. Much to the dismay of the woman. She stared him down for a moment as best she could. Then, she relented.
“I’m going out.” Coyote began walking but stopped when she heard Scritch’s footsteps behind her. “This mission isn’t one you’re going to tag along for.” Scritch would have been more offended if he didn’t understand exactly why. He saw how highly she valued her privacy. There was more at stake here than privacy.
“Ok but hold on. Don’t forget I can do this!” The black mist that rose from the hole between his shoulders began to sputter. A similar vapor spilled out from the sleeves in his coat and silently took the form of a knife. “Six inches of carbon steel. Lightweight, sharp, and meant for combat. Not to mention it’s pretty easy to throw. It’d be useful for stabbing and even for picking locks! Probably.” He swished the knife around in the air and made a few stabbing motions with it. Coyote watched and listened, arms crossed, with something akin to disappointment.
“That’s the same knife you summoned last time. I’m well aware of what it does. It’s basic magic. What worries me is what you’re doing with it now.” Scritch shrunk back from her words. The blade disappeared and yet he persisted.
“Look, I know I’m new to this but-“
“A week. You’ve been here a week. You’re still playing with knives. The only thing you’ll do out there is get in my way. So stay put and we’ll continue your training when I get back.” Her words rang true in Scritch’s consciousness. He thought he’d found some leeway with her due to the speed at which he caught onto spellcasting, no matter how basic it was. Clearly that wasn’t the case.
“Wait! I’ll do the debriefing if I come!”
Coyote’s hand hovered over the doorknob. She wasn’t a fan of debriefing. Trying to convey her state of mind during a hunt to a white-collar god made her cranky. Especially when he began asking for details. So having a blabbermouth relay what transpired would help her keep that post-hunt high a little longer.
“Fine. Gather your things and meet me outside. Don’t take longer than ten minutes.” Scritch pumped his fist and scampered off. It wouldn’t take him too long to gather his things. He didn’t have many possessions to speak of. So when he showed up it was far ahead of schedule.
“Alright! I’m ready! Let’s go!” As excited as a child on his first field trip. Coyote looked him over. Her head tilted to the side slightly, eyes narrowing.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked. Scritch examined himself, not exactly knowing what she meant. Heavy brown jacket just a little too big for him, worn and faded jeans, and high-top sneakers. He’d recently acquired some gloves, too. Black and green, rubber on the palm to help with his grip. For him, this was what felt good.
“What’s, uh, what’s wrong with it?” Scritch took a look at Coyote and couldn’t help but scoff. “Yours isn’t much better.” Coyote’s eyes narrowed further, turning her leer into a scowl. She crossed her arms and turned to face him fully.
“This outfit was designed to reduce drag for optimal movement. I can run, bend, and move as silently and as freely as the wind.” She effortlessly raised a knee to her chest to show him exactly what she meant. Scritch was more impressed by her sense of balance.
“My shirt and gloves are hydrophobic so that the lightning produced by my naginata doesn’t conduct back to me. The chaps over my pants protect the arteries in my legs and are laden with enchantments against piercing and slashing, letting me focus my defense on my torso.” Coyote swung her arms in front of her, deflecting imaginary attacks from a mighty foe. Her movements, even in practice, were defined and deliberate. Scritch was starting to see how functional this outfit was. All this time he just thought she was a closeted fashionista.
“My shoes have been worn, beaten, repaired, and fitted to perfectly hold my feet. I’m practically barefoot, but with far better friction so my high-speed movements don’t leave me sliding around. A hunter is only as good as their gear and mine is perfectly tailored to suit my needs and maximize the best of my abilities.” She bounced in place like a boxer in the ring. There wasn’t a sound when her feet left the earth or returned. Just as claimed, she was completely silent.
“And the newsboy cap?”
“We need to get going.”
The duo spent the next hour in silence hunting Eelzilla. Coyote’s tracking skills were sharp enough that they were practically following a map. As they traversed the city rooftops, Scritch had plenty of time to think about his wardrobe. Or rather, his lack thereof. The idea of armor was crossing his mind before Coyote stopped the hunt.
She silently raised her hand and motioned for him to get down. They crept close to the edge of the rooftop and looked out over the streets. They were close, even Scritch could tell. He just didn’t know how close. He wouldn’t, either.
“Stay here,” she ordered. Scritch knew she’d say something like that, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.
“Is it out there?” Scritch scanned the streets below. Then the rooftops above. It was only his first hunt but it didn’t exactly build confidence that he couldn’t locate the beast. Especially considering they were close enough to warrant stealth.
“Its nest is.” Coyote looked down at the still and calm of an empty night street. She wandered away from the edge, giving her enough room for what came next. Coyote’s body was a blur in the blink of an eye, surging towards the edge of the rooftop without a sound. Then, with all the speed and grace he’d come to expect from her, she flew over the street. She made five lanes of traffic look like a simple game of hopscotch.
Scritch was impressed, albeit slightly upset. He’d barely kept pace with her jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Crossing entire city streets in a single bound felt impossible. It most likely was. He’d taken note that he wasn’t out of breath. He didn’t need to eat, sleep, breathe, or even use the bathroom. His body seemed determined to stay stagnant.
His pity party was cut short by the abrupt shriek of scraping metal. It sounded like someone was overturning dump trucks in the alley next to him. He crept silently to the edge of the rooftop, footsteps registering as nothing more than moving leaves. For the first time since he’d awoken without his head, he could feel his heart beating. His hands were clammy, his feet sluggish. His body was telling him to stop, to advance no further, danger lurked ahead.
In no small part was he wrong. The vapors that spewed from the stump he called a neck sputtered and then ceased. A dumpster had been knocked over and eating out of it was his introduction to the world of hunting.
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It was just as described. A massive moray eel with the legs of a centipede. Huge, twitching, chitinous legs attached to a body as black as the night sky. Its body was only visible thanks to the streetlights that littered the city. It ate through the garbage with voracious appetite, throwing aside the few things it wouldn’t stomach.
Scritch turned to shout for Coyote, but she was gone. That was alright though. He didn’t need to engage with the creature. He was at least five stories above it. The thing seemed content eating garbage and it was late at night. No one was around, no one was in danger. He just had to follow it until Coyote showed up.
Scritch watched it rummage through the trash for a solid minute or two before it suddenly stopped. He ducked down before the beast could see him, but it didn’t look in his direction. It looked down the alley. Down the brick wall straightaway and right at the men who’d wandered in front of the alley’s entrance.
“Oh boy.” The vapor spilled from the coat sleeve once more, his weapon of choice silently taking its place in his hand. “Coyote isn’t going to be happy.”
Scritch held the knife tightly. There was no way the beast was just casually admiring the muscular physique of the men. He couldn’t think of any animals that did that. Then again, the list of animals he knew was quite short. He knew a standoff when he saw one, though. Scritch stood poised to attack on the rooftop’s edge. There was no time to find a staircase inside to use and the fire escape was both too noisy and too time consuming. He’d have to hold out hope that the creature’s body was softer than it looked.
There wasn’t time to weigh other options or contemplate the biology of a moray eel. One of the men pointed at the creature and muttered something Scritch couldn’t make out. Though it didn’t matter much because those words might as well have been a declaration of war. Eelzilla let out a thunderous bellow and charged. Scritch wasted no time moving in.
He dropped from the building above and flipped the knife around in his hand. If he could just get the knife in deep enough, he’d be able to rodeo the beast into submission. He hoped against all hope that in his previous life he was some kind of cowboy. Right before he slammed his body into the beast, he swung his arm and dug the blade into the creature up to the hilt. Eelzilla roared in pain and began to thrash about wildly. As the headless hunter’s body flopped around like a fish out of water, it became increasingly obvious that he was no cowboy. Not in this life nor the previous.
Scritch did prove himself a great distraction. While the beast was busy trying to shake loose its newest passenger, the two men at the end of the alley began speaking to each other. Far too casually for the hero.
“Hey! Meatheads! Now would be a great time to run! Go!” Scritch shouted at the top of his lungs. The two men who lacked any survival instinct nodded and lumbered off out of sight. With the bodybuilders meandering off to safety, Scritch could focus on holding on for dear life. The beast thrashed this way and that, throwing itself against the solid brick walls of the alleyway in hopes of removing Scritch from its back.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he shouted. “You’re in for a world of hurt once you get tired enough!” If this was going to be a war of attrition, he knew he couldn’t lose. He had a great spot right on top of the beast where he’d be able to avoid getting smushed. How long he could stay atop his bucking bronco wasn’t something he’d thought through. He wouldn’t have time to think about it, either.
With another deafening roar, Eelzilla tore out of the alleyway and into the middle of the street. Scritch’s body proved little more than a windsock once his quarry began rampaging down the road. He couldn’t let this beast get any further. No matter what, he had to slow this thing down. Using all the strength he could muster, he hauled himself up into a proper straddling position and pulled out the knife. Eelzilla howled once and then again when Scritch’s knife found purchase in a new location. Without the aid of a five-story drop, it proved far more difficult to get the knife in as deep through the beast’s chitinous hide.
With his climbing apparatus now once more just a weapon, he was tossed from his prey. He struggled to right himself in the air. He spent what felt like an eternity spinning through the sky, catching glimpses of what was going on. Scritch saw Eelzilla charge through the streets. Then, a lone figure on the sidewalk. What a beautiful night sky. Eelzilla again, moving towards the figure. It took a couple more rotations until he realized that Eelzilla was beelining it towards the figure. Whoever it was must have had a death wish or was blissfully unaware of the chitin-clad train charging towards them.
Scritch’s body slammed against the solid concrete of a storefront and then fell on the cold, hard, filthy sidewalk. His leg wasn’t looking so good. It hadn’t always bent that way, had it? He took a second to thank his lucky stars he didn’t have a head. He'd surely have caught a concussion from all that, or at the very least, thrown up from all the spinning. Finally able to gain some composure, he looked to see who dared stand against the lamprey eel that’d been his bucking bronco.
“Coyote!” Scritch’s voice was a little on the weak side. He’d never felt tired before, but maybe it was all this excitement getting to him. He couldn’t be much help, either. His leg was in no shape to be used anytime soon.
“Scritch!” Coyote shouted back at him. “I want you to watch me closely.” Coyote extended her hand towards the monster. In a brilliant flash of blue light, her naginata appeared. She spun it deftly, testing the balance. She seemed content with the weight and feel of her weapon before narrowing her eyes onto her prey.
“Keep yourself calm. We are the hunters, not the hunted.” Coyote calmly lifted the blade of her naginata to point it towards the monster. It charged forward, unafraid. There were mere inches between the beast and herself when she finally moved. The sound of a thunderclap echoed through the night followed by the huntress appearing behind the monster.
“Be patient. This is our home. We set the rules, we control what happens here.” Coyote steadied herself as Eelzilla bellowed again. It charged forward, gnashing teeth presenting themselves in all their glory. She remained a step ahead of danger. Every move the monster made only showed the difference between its speed and Coyote’s. There was no way it would catch her like this.
“Know your enemy,” she continued, dancing between the legs of the beast. “There are no immovable objects, only unstoppable forces. Nothing is invincible.” She rested beneath the monster. Lightning sprung forth from her weapon as she thrust it upwards into the beast. Eelzilla writhed in agony, shrieking as its eyes rolled around wildly in their sockets. It managed to hold its ground, shaking off the electrical surge before releasing another deafening roar. Instead of launching another attack, it decided to turn tail and run away this time.
“Focus. When you’re in the hunt, nothing else can matter. You must kill without bloodlust, hunt without hunger, and leave your grudges in the grave with your foe.” Eelzilla was making a run for it. It seemed the beast had met its match in the huntress and then some. Coyote was far from finished, though. She closed her eyes and lowered her weapon, once more aiming the blade at her quarry. The air around her crackled with energy. The street lights around them buzzed and began to brighten and flicker.
“I am Coyote of Blue Heaven. This is the code I live by. Nothing more, nothing less.” The air around them crackled and buzzed. Scritch felt his whole body begin to tingle as Coyote took a single step forward and then disappeared. She was on the side of the building in the blink of an eye, catching up to her fleeing prey at breakneck speeds. Her body surged with electricity as she proved to embody the power and speed of lightning itself.
There was one final clap of thunder before Coyote dove straight through the beast. Starting where her protégé had made the first wound and exiting the other side in a perfectly straight line. Eelzilla took its last breaths as its body collapsed in on itself, quickly turning to ash as its soul departed back to Yellow Heaven.
For the first time he could remember, Scritch was speechless. He’d never imagined his teacher had this much power at her disposal. He shakily rose on unsteady feet, surprising himself with how much function he was getting out of a broken leg. He looked down and realized that at some juncture during Coyote’s performance, his leg had gotten better. That didn’t make any sense to him. How could-
“Scritch!” Coyote’s shout shook him free of his self-reflection. He looked up to see a furious Coyote stomping towards him. Once again, he found himself in the path of a monster. This monster was a redheaded woman that was arguably scarier than four, maybe five, Eelzillas.
“What in God’s name were you thinking!?” Coyote grabbed him by the collar. She pushed him against a wall, her eyes narrowed in a nasty scowl. Scritch had never seen her this angry before. He could still feel the tingle of electricity in the air.
“I- I had to do something! I couldn’t let it get them!”
“Get who?!”
“The bodybuilders! They could see it!”
“You risked your life for Dofafa?!”
“What does that mean?”
Coyote’s eyes shifted from fury to frightened and then back to her usual scowl. She released Scritch and took a step back. The electricity in the air dissipated. Coyote looked at her hands for a moment and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was level and calm again. Still stern, but Scritch had come to expect that from her. Her role as a combatant had come to an end. Once again, she was a teacher.
“Those weren’t humans, Scritch. Humans can’t see beings from Red Heaven or Yellow Heaven except under specific circumstances. Neither can they see those in service to a god.” Coyote stepped forward and Scritch froze up. Her scowl faltered for a moment. Then she gently surveyed him.
“Scritch, are you ok?” Her voice was soft this time. Uncharacteristically so.
“Yeah. I’m good. My leg is a little sore.” He left out how it was snapped in two before. He wasn’t going to give her more to worry about. Especially considering he barely understood what had happened. He briefly considered telling her, but if she could heal herself then she wouldn’t have been so focused on dodging attacks. For now he’d chalk this up to weird
“You’re ok? I saw it throw you to a wall before you fell three stories and landed knee-first onto concrete.”
“I mean, yeah? Look, I’m fine.” Then Scritch began moving his feet in short rhythmic sequences. Coyote’s eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m jigging. To show you that I’m ok. It’s a victory jig.”
“That’s tapdancing.”
“Well then I’m tapdancing to show you I’m ok.”
“That’s not tapdancing.”
Back at Nakutama’s office, Scritch relayed the tale of their adventure. For a man without a head, he recited the incidents with astounding accuracy. A blue imp stood by on a small computer and played the part of scribe to write down Scritch’s words. His little fingers kept up with the headless blabbermouth with certainty and ease. Every word documented for Nakutama’s extensive file collection.
“-and then Coyote said they were actually Dofafa, so I didn’t need to save them. Which she never explained.” Scritch glanced over at the imp scribe. Why did Coyote hate debriefing? The imp was doing all the hard work. All he had to do was talk.
“Well I’m glad you’re alright, Scritch. Though are you quite sure you’re alright? From what you told me it sounds like you got put through the wringer.” Nakutama straightened a stack of papers on his desk and waved his hand at the little blue imp. It disappeared in a small puff of smoke and the duo was left alone.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I looked over myself and I don’t even have a bruise. I’m a lot more interested in knowing what a Dofafa is and why they don’t matter.” Scritch crossed his arms. Though he was lacking facial expressions, he could still convey impatience quite easily. He wasn’t keen on the fact that both Coyote and Nakutama continued to either ignore his question or tell him these weirdly sculpted men were of no value to anyone.
“I don’t see why this has you upset, Scritch. They’re well-being doesn’t concern you.”
“Yeah, but why? Are you trying to tell me that some lives matter less than others?”
Nakutama cleared his throat. “Actually, yes. Dofafa are what’s known as godspawns. True gods, the ones born of ideals and not of loins, can create pale imitations of life. They cannot reproduce nor think for themselves, and are extraordinarily expendable. The imps you see here are my own godspawns. They are connected to me, but not vice versa. Think of them as pets. Though I can erase them at will and create more. The stronger a god, the more godspawn they can have out.”
Scritch attempted to wrap his head around this. He wasn’t sure what that meant, except-
“Wait.” Scritch held up a hand which he turned into an accusatory finger. “So Humphrey can just be erased? And born again? Why don’t you do that and fix his short-term memory? No more bean paste coffee.” Nakutama was taken aback. He cleared his throat again and folded his hands on his desk.
“I can easily remove him, but I cannot create a duplicate of him. Another imp will take his place if I so choose. However, that requires time and energy. I don’t drink coffee, not from the kitchen anyway, so his shortcomings don’t bother me. Therefore, he stays.” This time, Scritch was taken aback. Was it really that easy? He could erase them without a second thought, just because they’re an inconvenience? Was this how powerful and far removed the gods were?
“I see,” mumbled Scritch. “Are we, uh, done?” Nakutama smiled and stood up, offering his hand to Scritch.
“As long as you’re sure you’re fine. I still insist you see the physician. You may be a unique case, but it doesn’t hurt to go to a professional.” Scritch shook his boss’s hand. Nakutama’s smile widened. Maybe just a bit too much.
“You did excellent work today, son. Here’s to many successful ventures.”
Scritch sat on the roof of the office building. The rising sun warmed his body slowly. It was a feeling that couldn’t be duplicated. At least not as far as he was concerned. His room had heating and cooling, but the stark white of the walls and the harsh fluorescent lights made it feel more like a prison. Not that he knew entirely what a prison looked like. Another odd gap in reason. How did he know what a prison felt like when he couldn’t even remember his own name?
“Is this seat taken?” A little voice from behind Scritch made its presence known. The headless hunter tried shaking his head no, but was reminded once more of his condition.
“Not for you,” he replied. Humphrey smiled and sat down next to Scritch. The little imp rummaged around in a brown paper bag and pulled out a sandwich held in plastic wrap.
“Ya want some?” asked the little helper. “It’s tuna!” Humphrey struggled with the plastic wrap. It was that kind that stuck to itself, which he always forgot he had trouble opening.
“No thanks. I don’t like fish,” Scritch answered. Never mind he couldn’t eat anything at all. He just had a feeling he didn’t really like fish. Which begged the question of what he did like.
“Suit yourself.” Humphrey gave up on the casing and decided to bite right through it. As he chewed his plastic tuna sandwich he kicked his little feet and looked out over the horizon. Much like Scritch, Humphrey found solace in the warmth of the sun. It sure did beat the little white room he shared with his brother.
“Say, Humphrey,” Scritch began. “You ever get in trouble for doing your job? Or what you thought was your job?” The little imp thought about it for a while. He had plenty of time to think, given that plastic wasn’t exactly easy to chew.
“No,” he answered plainly. “But some guy tried making coffee with bean paste. Super gross, but super funny!” Humphrey cackled and kicked his feet excitedly. He liked being this high up. It made him feel giant.
“You know that was you, right?” Scritch’s voice was cautious, perhaps a little jaded. Humphrey’s cackling came to an end. He scratched his head and peered out over the horizon.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I think you’re right.” Humphrey’s voice trailed off, losing itself in the gentle morning breeze. They two of them sat in silence. The warmth of the sun was something they could both appreciate without needing to say anything. It was refreshing to have someone to share these moments with. Even if the sound of chewing plastic was slightly annoying.
“Hey, you want a bite? It’s tuna!”
“No thanks. I don’t like fish.”