He has a story to turn in first thing when he walks in the office four hours later. His cheek throbs, duly reminding him that the Maned Wolf is not actually a wolf, but a distant cousin of the candid and that he quite possibly the species is not related to dogs, coyotes, or wolves.
Many thoughts prey on his mind like vultures on a carcass.
Maybe it's his fault, he thinks, without actually thinking it.
He's too young, they said. He's too young to understand life...
These colors are starting to slowly, slowly blind him.
It's so beautiful, though.