RETURN

There was still breath in the little black dog when the hyena showed up. The snake that had taken the cur to the edge of its life had slipped into the grass, leaving no trace.

Muck-North

They lay askew there in the muck—a stillness so complete you would think them dead. Silt billows up in dark, languid puffs. The body has settled on its back, not quite flat. Arms splayed, outstretched, palms to the sky; back arched, as are the feet, curling into the seabed as if grasping for purchase.