You chose to strike the coyote

Ignoring the screeching, you make your move on the coyote and hurl your jaws toward its neck. It lands and you viciously and violently end the creature’s life. There is a considerable amount of coyote blood on your face. And the ground. And on the coyote.

You think about what you have done. You killed another forest creature. It was for a good cause, you tell yourself. It was to rescue a tiny, helpless baby bird.

You look behind you to check on the baby bird.

You see the branch it hid under.

There is no baby bird there.

You look around the forest floor, around the trees and the leaves and the dirt.

The rain gets heavier.

You look.

You panic.

You sniff and make grunting sounds to show the baby bird where you are and to show the baby bird it is okay to come out now.

It is safe.

The baby bird is gone.

You choose to…

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