XLV

Owl read the sentence again.
"Of course!"

Coyoté rounded the rock.

"That's why nobody listens to me!" Owl continued.

Coyoté stepped over the prickly pear pad laying on the ground.
And he waited. Paused.
Watched his old friend. Silent.

Well, momentarily silent.
Coyoté cleared his throat,
then said, "Who's not listening to you now?"
Owl jumped

and then stepped on the prickly pear pad laying on the ground.
He hopped and fumed. Tears formed
and slid down his beak.

Coyoté looked behind himself, stepped back.
Quietly. Safely.

Owl slowly slowed hopping, wiped his beak.
Turned toward Coyoté
and pointed at the page in the book.

Coyoté read aloud, "Truth is born into this world
only with pangs and tribulations...."
He looked at Owl.
Owl waited.

Coyoté continued aloud, "... and every fresh truth
is received unwillingly."
He looked at Owl.
Owl waited.

Coyoté looked at Owl's wounded foot.
He looked up at Owl,
looked down again.

"So," he began slowly,
"what truth did you step on?"

Owl slugged him.
"Ow!" Coyoté exclaimed,
"I've discovered enough truth today!
Cut it out!"

Owl looked at his foot.
He looked at Coyoté's bruised chops.
A chuckle formed, deep within.
Coyoté slowly relaxed,
and grinned sly.