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Found Dog

Found Dog rattles down the shale and draws an inch of blade, enough to use as a mirror. The gulls are still behind him. They’re catching up.

The bottom of the ravine is wet and he stumbles in it, looking for more shelter. There. Half a beaver dam. Found Dog gets his head under just as the scream of gullsong bursts over the ravine’s lip.

There’s a fat man in a smelly coat underneath. He’s bleeding, and he has ugly wings.

“Who is it,” he hisses.

“I’m Found Dog!” says Found Dog cheerfully. “Found Dog is a good person to be!”


“It’s started already,” says Billie Youngblood. Pierrot believes her. His nose is considerably longer, but hers is as sharp as frost.

He kicks Azazello awake. The old thing hisses at him, but Pierrot kicks again. “Air’s turning, scapegoat,” says Pierrot. “Go quickly and we might save you some bones.”

Azazello tries to look bored, but his long pupils dilate all the same. “Wanna rabbit bones,” he sniffs.

“You might get dust.”

Azazello snarls and scuttles up the hill, launching at the crest. Billie and Pierrot watch, as always, at the way he turns dawn’s light oily: an angel with pigeon wings.