The coyote's brother.
- joneworlds@mailbox.org

Many  years  ago,  my  brother  and  I  worked  as
loggers. One day, as we drove our trailer truck to
the landing  where the skidders drug  the logs, we
felt something  pass under  the front  wheel. Upon
stopping,   we  saw   sadly  it   had  crushed   a
coyote. Its partner came to me, and spoke.

"Thou  killed  my brother.  And  now  in return  I
demand the life of yours."

"My  brother's life  is not  mine to  give, though
your loss pains me. Take now my bread and my meat,
and our apology."

The coyote snorted.   "A lunch for a  life, a foul
payment. I will meet you again in one year."

The next year, my brother  and I returned to those
woods to  work.  The  coyote came  to me  a second
time, and spoke.

"A year hence, thou killed  my brother. And now in
return I demand the life of yours."

"My  brother's life  is not  mine to  give, though
your loss pains me. Take  now my warm blanket, and
our apology."

The coyote snarled.  "A  carpet for a companion, a
contemptible purchase. I will see you again in one
year."

The next year, my brother and I worked those woods
once again.  The  coyote came to me  a third time,
and spoke.

"Two years hence, thou  killed my brother. And now
in return I demand the life of yours."

I  became angry.  "Two  times, I  have offered  in
sympathy what I  could, for an accident  of no ill
will. And  two times  you have rudely  refused. Be
off, and bother me not again."

"And yet, still you will pay."

The  radio in  the  truck turned  to  dust on  the
driver's seat, which then changed into an owl that
flew and perched on the tallest log.  And then the
coyote's  eyes flashed  as its  body changed  into
black coal.   At first a  few lumps, then  a pile,
and  then a  whole mountain  of the  stuff sinking
deep into the ground before me.

We came  never again  to those forests,  but heard
years later  that they  had been stripped  for the
delving of a great mine. And that great wealth was
now in that region.

And  despite this,  I cannot  forget the  coyote's
final words.