some squealing and chattering off in the trees, then that whack! noise, and silence. Got quieter and quieter until alls I heard was the rain on the roof and the rain on the leaves and the rain on the puddles. I had some food inside, and started sneaking outside to get greens once it’d been quiet for awhile. No meat left, so no droppers around. Seemed safe.

I did miss my barbecue, though. No point lyin about that.

So, like I said, I dunno how long ago it was, maybe days, maybe weeks, don’t really care so much. But I was in the west wing of my spread, doing something best left between a man and his hand, and started hearing a crashing and crunching like something big and clumsy stumbling its way through the underbush. Four legs, no doubt, and probably hurt, from the lurching sound to it. Now, like I said, I did miss my barbecue. So I put away my lance and picked up my spear and poked an eye out the window. I don’t really have a fancy window, like with glass in it, just a rectangular hole in the wall. But I call it a window, because I don’t know what a rectangular hole in the wall is called besides a window.

I’d learned to keep my eyes up at the treetops, too, since nine times outta ten when I’d see meat run by wouldn’t be but a minute before it’d have a dropper stuck out its back. Small ones, sure, but they’re still not something you want to tangle with. So I’m lookin up and I’m lookin down, and then suddenly two people run out of the woodline right into my mud yard. Youngns. Boy, girl, maybe twenties somewhere. Maybe younger, maybe older. Hard