​

⸎

​

At this point I close my eyes to let the

hunter claim his trophy. Let him lunge and be

done with me already.

​

I’m don’t expect the snarling hunter’s whimper,

something snagging at its throat roared out of the darkness.

​

Once, twice, three times it fends him off.

​

            It’s…      Beethoven?

​

Yes, Beethoven. Standing  guard at my feet now, positioning himself between me

and Ives. The other two soon reveal themselves as well, frozen in place as if they don’t quite know who to side with yet. They’re trying to make their minds up still.

​

Beethoven continues to growl—something much deeper than I would expect.

Fiercer.

​

Though he is much smaller than the other three,

his shadow looms larger on the walls now.

​

Ives tries one more time to strike,

but the runt of the litter lashes him with a paw and he is

done. He cowers at last, and it is decided—Beethoven is now the alpha.

​

It is decided for Mozart and Tchaikovsky, too.

 

They soon join their pack leader on the

other side, where they form a semi-circle of protection around me.

​

            I try to raise up but flinch in agony.

​

_________________________________________

​

Before passing out, I can feel Beethoven licking at my wounds.

​

            It feels . . .   clean.

​

⸎