Glacier Jollin
“Yeah,” remarked the lymas fearlessly. Her eyes seemed to bore holes into his own, which unnerved him. “You’re a sorry excuse for a predator. I’ve been watching you for a few days, and I have to admit your hunting skills are a bit lax.”
Not understanding her words, but clearly recognizing them as an insult, Weed flexed his muscles and prepared what looked to be a pounce. “If I were you, I’d run before I bite your pretty little tail off.”
“Oh please,” scoffed the lymas. “By the time you’d even consider attacking me, I’d have you pinned. Don’t test me.”
Sensing her warning truthful, Weed backed down and once again slunk into his dug-out. “Well, in that case, either eat me or leave. I don’t have the energy to put up with your insults…”
“Spare me the drama, coyote. I’m here to offer you a deal.”
Weed didn’t look up, instead rolling his head around in the dirt, taking in a mouthful. Not sensing any grubs or worms in his jaws, he spat the contents of his mouth out. The lymas looked on undeterred. Feeling uncomfortable and slightly irritated at her presence, he glared up at her with tired eyes. “What could you possibly want with me? You’re a lymas. Lymas don’t… make deals with coyotes unless they’re stupid.”
“You’re going to be the stupid one if you don’t take it,” replied the female with a shrug. “Look, I’m on my own mission of sorts, but I can hardly do it alone. I need a partner to watch my back in case I wind up in trouble. And, as I’m sure you’re already aware, there’s nothing on the food chain higher than a coyote in these forests. You’d be a valuable asset to me if you agree to help me out.”
Weed’s eyes rolled up to meet hers with the slightest hint of interest. “You need a bodyguard? You seem capable of taking care of yourself to me.”
“I’m flattered, but the executions I’m planning require more than just my cunning and strength. I need the presence of something all lymas fear, and that just so happens to be you.”
“Hm,” grunted Weed as he crawled back out into the open and scratched his back on the exposed root. “So what’s in it for me?”
Smirking, she answered, “What I’m sure you’ve desired since your birth, you insipid creature—food. I’ll do all the hunting for you in exchange for protection.”
Weed’s ears pricked. It was certainly a tempting offer. He’d get free meals for simply following some domineering lymas around? It sounded too good to be true. Sensing his doubts, the female sighed and said, “The only catch to this deal is you’d have to completely eliminate all lymas out of your diet. I’ll hunt anything else for you in whatever quantity you wish, but I don’t kill my own kind. I don’t expect you to, either.”
The albino snorted in annoyance and, just for that reason alone, considered not accepting the offer at all. Then again, if he didn’t, what would he do? Go back to wallowing in his hunger and sorrow while awaiting death’s evil clutches? Hesitating, he sat down and allowed himself a few moments to think.
“I don’t have all day, coyote,” the female growled impatiently. “My time is running short, and I can’t afford to waste it mulling about here with you—”
“Weed,” he interjected.
Highly annoyed at being interrupted and completely confused by the single word response she received, she snapped, “What?”
“My name,” answered the coyote with a widening grin. “It’s Weed. I accept your deal, lymas. I’ll try to fulfill your request, but—”
“There is no trying with me, Weed,” growled the female. “It’s either you succeed or you die of hunger. I don’t do partial-deals. It’s all or nothing from here on out.”
“You’re not leaving any room for error, are you?” grumbled the albino.
“Not a chance,” smirked the lymas. “By the way, you will call me Quill.”
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