For a while, Aktorius and I acted as if nothing happened. Then again, secrets can be pretty dull if only one other person knows about it.

I’d tried to stay out of danger, and other than a couple of bruises and scrapes, I was doing a pretty god job. Until last week of course.

Do not for an instant suspect that I enjoy near death experiences. I, like any other person, abhor them.

It started on a hot day in the middle of August. Aktorius and I were in my backyard on the swingset.
“Did you hear about the coyotes?” He asked me sleepily.
“Yeah. I don’t believe it,” I rolled my eyes. For weeks, these coyotes had taken the blame of everything, including robbing the 7-Eleven on the corner.
As if it were planned, a coyote jumped out of the bushes.
“You’re mine,” it snarled at me. Without stopping to think how an earth is this thing talking to me, I ran to the back door. Locked, of course. “Don’t run. Only makes me more hungry.”