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Don't Cry

June 1999

Tina sighed, trying one more time to get into the infamous "Benjy Section" of Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury, wondering why in hell American literature professors loved it so much. At the risk of making a horrible pun, it was idiotic. There was no point whatsoever in trying to follow the information that was being given, and the delivery was amateurish as all hell. If you really want genuine "American letters," why not study Raymond Chandler?

Still, the she-skunk ruminated, she couldn't bitch too much. At least, by taking the course, she still had her job as "dorm mom" for Hillard Hall this summer. For a while, she wasn't sure that the dorm would be kept open, but certain changes in the construction plans at Leland University caused some of the other dorms to close down for the summer. She had to smile, realizing that several of the "summer only" residents of the dorm weren't very happy about the reputation of 2-East, but that was their problem. Most of that floor was empty anyway, almost everyone gone for the summer, and some gone for good. She thought wistfully of Tiny and Ricky (especially Ricky, she thought with a grin and an involuntary flick of her tail); they had graduated last month and gone to Hawaii. It's always hard to lose them when they graduate, but at least Marcus would still be here. His Masters program would formally begin this fall, and he was taking some kind of summer course to--

"Tina!"

Speak of the devil--or the wolf, in this case. Marcus barreled down the stairs toward her in such a hurry that she jumped up in alarm.

"Marcus? What is it?"

He nearly slammed into the door jamb, panting heavily. "Let me have your car. Please."

"What in--"

"It's Daniel."

Without another second's hesitation, she grabbed the keys from her desk and tossed them to him. "Go. Call me when you can. Is he all right?" she yelled at his retreating tail.

"He will be, I hope."

The she-skunk bit her lip. Whatever it was about, it was an emergency. She wasn't much on religion, but she tossed up a prayer To Whom It May Concern that Daniel, Marcus' young lion lover, was all right.

* * * * *

Behind the wheel of Tina's bright yellow Ford Escape, Marcus ground his teeth and forced himself to remain reasonably close to the speed limit. He wished that he could fly the hundred miles to Daniel's family home; he wished he could simply teleport to his young lover, just be there. He knew there was no way that he could stay in that town to be close to Daniel; aside from the costs involved, and his preliminary graduate studies at Leland, Marcus felt that Daniel's family didn't consider the wolf to be one of the most welcome of people at the household.

He stifled a curse. That was the whole point, and the whole problem. Daniel, oh Daniel, he thought urgently, hang in there. I'm on my way.

Marcus stole a glance at the case of CDs on the seat beside him. Careful of traffic--mercifully light at this time of the midweek day--he flipped through until he came to a picture that he recognized all too well. A favorite album, familiar songs. It might help. The picture of the artist, black and folded into a strange Y-shape, brought long-ago memories back to the wolf. Good memories. Plaintive memories. He pressed the disc into the dashboard, let the mechanism take hold, and selected the fourth track. In seconds, the smooth, heart-filled voice reached the wolf's ears.

"Don't be so hard on yourself; those tears are for someone else; I hear your voice on the phone; I hear you feel so alone, my baby..."

That was how it began--Daniel's voice on the phone...

* * * * *

As his summer course had progressed, Marcus discovered quickly that any distraction from a textbook on calculating statistics was more than welcome. He picked up the phone and answered it.

"Marcus?"

"Daniel! Hey, teddy-lion, what are you doing calling me in the middle of the day?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Never, kiddo, you know that." The wolf's voice softened even as another portion of his body threatened to harden at the sound of his lover's voice. "What's going on?"

"I just ... needed to call, that's all."

Marcus' brow furrowed. "Daniel?"

A near-silence from the other end of the phone, five score miles away. Something like a snuffle.

"Daniel, what is it? Are you all right?"

"I'm not sure."

"What is it? Talk to me."

A long intake of breath, and then: "It's Michael."

"Michael? Your brother?"

"He's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"He left. He left the house. Took his stuff and left. Because of me."

"Daniel, slow down; what are you talking about? What do you mean, because of you?"

"Because I'm gay."

Marcus felt a chill run through him. He had been waiting, and not happily, for a moment like this one. Daniel's coming out to his parents was traumatic enough--unplanned, unexpected, and nearly violent. There had been some kind of reconciliation with his father, perhaps even his mother, but there had been no indication of what his brother and sister would think. As far as Marcus knew, neither of them had been told. Daniel, his sister ahead of him and his brother after, was the proverbial "middle child," with all the various psychodramas attached--some, in spades.

"Talk to me. Tell me what happened. Did you finally come out to your brother and sister?"

"Stephanie already knew. A long time back. After Mom and Dad came up, and that whole... after all that happened, Steph knew Mom was acting strangely. When Mom finally started to tell her, Steph stopped her in mid-sentence--she'd suspected it even before I went home for Christmas last year. She's okay with it. She's helped Mom a lot. Maybe even Dad."

"But Michael never knew?"

"No one ever talked to him about it. And denial is a helluva drug. Among others."

The comment sounded strange. "Was Michael doing drugs?"

"Yes. No." A wracked breath. "I'm not completely sure; maybe he was. I'm not sure that's the point anymore." A choke, the audible sound of tears. "It's ... it's my..."

"Don't you dare say that!" The wolf's voice growled loudly, a sound rarely used toward a lover. "It's not your fault, do you hear me? Don't take that on. It's not your fault."

"You don't know."

"I know enough to know that you can't control your brother's actions. He did this, not you."

Daniel's voice became very quiet. "But you don't know."

Against every lupine instinct, Marcus forced himself to be quiet, to listen for a change. This was no time to be the macho kid that his father had tried to beat him into becoming. "Daniel. I'm here for you."

"I don't..." The voice from far away choked again. "I just don't..."

"Daniel, are your parents there? Your sister?"

"No. Dad's away on a job in Houston. Mom is out ... I don't know, looking around, asking people, I don't know where. Stephanie doesn't know yet. She lives in San Francisco. We haven't called her."

"Do you want me to come to you?"

"How could--"

"Do you want me there?"

Several broken breaths told of the young lion's tears. "I need you, Marcus."

"Then I'll get there. But I have to hang up to do that. Are you going to be okay?"

"I, um..."

"Can you call your sister? She needs to know. I'm going to hang up, and you're going to call your sister, and I'm going to go find a way to get to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Wolf," the sad voice tried to smile.

"I'll find a way there, Daniel. I'll get there as soon as I can." Marcus paused, to make sure that the emphasis came through. "I love you, Daniel."

"Love you, Marcus," sobbed the young lion. "Please..."

"I'm on my way. Just hold on."

Gently, he cradled the phone and tore down the dormitory stairs.

* * * * *

Don't cry, you're not alone; Don't cry tonight, sweet baby; Don't cry, you'll always belong; Don't cry, my sweet baby...

He felt paranoid doing it, but Marcus still felt safer parking the car several houses down and walking slowly toward the house. He knew where it was easily enough; he had caught the bus into town on a few weekends, and Daniel had met him at the station, or at the strip mall a few blocks down. They spent their time together throughout the day and evening; on one memorable occasion, with luck and a questionable arrangement between mother and son, Daniel "spent the night at a friend's house" which was actually the local motel. Daniel had to promise to return in time to go to church with his parents (his father's insistence), and Marcus simply waited at the diner to have breakfast with his lover when he returned. It was a hypocrisy that was too easily adapted to, and he hated it. Now, Marcus had to cross a line that he'd never dared do before. It was only his love for Daniel that made it possible.

He'd called from a gas station down the road; Daniel assured him that the house was still empty. As he approached, ears down and tail low, he saw the young lion at the front door, waving him over, a smile on his face that showed immense relief. It was all Marcus could do to wait until getting inside to embrace his lover. Daniel kissed him feverishly, clung to him as if he could never bear to let go of him again.

"I'm here, kiddo," Marcus whispered, nibbling gently on Daniel's ears more for reassurance than for arousal. "It's okay."

For long moments, Daniel couldn't answer. They moved to a couch, where Daniel collapsed against Marcus and cried for fully ten minutes. Marcus stroked the long, full mane, waited for the storm of emotions to subside. Finally, Daniel sat up and leaned against the wolf's shoulder, not breaking the touch. Marcus couldn't say that his need for it was any less than his young lover's.

"Did you call Stephanie?" Marcus ventured.

Daniel nodded. "She's hoping that this will all just blow over, but she's coming down on Friday."

"She could be right, you know."

"I don't think so."

Marcus considered carefully what to say next. Tact was Daniel's strong suit, not his--but he was learning. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Heaving a deep sigh, Daniel nodded. "Come with me."

Taking the wolf by the hand, Daniel walked through the large house and up the stairs. Marcus could not help but be awestruck by the furnishings, the books, the art that looked original, the sheer size of the place. He had grown up in a small shack, trying to dodge his father's fists and hide his own bottles of alcohol. Comparatively, Daniel had grown up in a mansion, with a room for everyone, modern gadgets, a manicured lawn. And still, nothing in Daniel held any pretension or put on any airs. They were more alike than not, and in some way they shared the same sort of early growing pains. For the first time, Marcus wondered if Daniel's childhood, although completely different from his own, had in its own way been just as traumatizing.

Just past the head of the stairs, Daniel led Marcus into a medium-sized bedroom. "This used to be my room," the lion murmured. "Michael moved into it when I went off to college last fall. His room was a little smaller, a guest room downstairs. He wanted more space."

Marcus looked the room over. He wished that he could have seen the room as Daniel had grown up in it, to get some further insights into his lover, but the décor was so utterly unlike Daniel that Marcus was certain that not a trace of the original furnishings survived. The walls were covered with posters of modern rock groups, most of them the kind of "alternative" music that gouged at the ears and the brain with equal harshness. The bed was unmade, as was typical for most boys of Michael's fifteen years. A dresser held a TV with a game machine that also played DVDs; a dozen or more film discs lay in disarray nearby. The music system looked as if it had cost a pretty penny as well.

The one thing that Marcus had expected to see was absent--dirty clothes on the floor. Turning to look at the open closet door, he saw the reason why: There were no clothes on any of the hangars, and many hangars lay on the floor of the closet. He could visualize someone ripping all of the clothes off the hangars, throwing them into something--duffel bag, suitcase, whatever. The remains of the room began to make a much more grim sense to him; he saw gaps in a bookshelf, in a collection of CDs, in things pulled halfway out from under the bed. A large guitar amplifier showed the dust-cleared space where a smaller, practice amp might have stood; next to it, a hole where a guitar had rested.

"My God," Marcus breathed.

Daniel sat on the bed, dejected, small. "This is what I found when I came back. And this." He handed Marcus a cigar box, empty save for a few trace flecks of brownish-green leaf and a very distinctive smell.

"Anything else? Needles, pipe, rocks?"

"No."

"In a way, that's good," Marcus sighed. "If he just sticks to grass, and doesn't let it get control over him, he'll probably be all right."

Daniel looked shocked for a moment, then nodded. "Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction from Dad. I bought the whole government line about all drugs being evil."

"Not that I want you trying it," Marcus smiled softly. "At least not without me around. But I know people who have a little grass once in a while, on and off, for years. If he treats it like a responsible wine drinker, he'll be okay--unless he gets busted, and then it's another story. But I don't think he's a candidate for hard stuff."

"I hope not."

Marcus sat on the bed, tossing the box to the floor. "What do you mean, when you came back? You said you found this when you came back. Where were you?"

Daniel rubbed a hand across his eyes, clearing away the seed crystals of new tears. "I was with Michael. A little less than two miles from here. A place we used to play when we were kids. I thought it might be a good place to ... well, to talk things out. To remember that we were brothers after all."

In the long pause, the young lion trembled gently. Marcus put an arm around him and squeezed him close. "I'm here, Daniel. Tell me."

Daniel wiped his eyes again. "It was so different when we were kids..."

* * * * *

When we were young, And truth was paramount-- We were older then, And we lived a life without any doubt. Those memories-- They seem so long ago...

"Watch where you're going, dork!"

"Hey, you're the one knocking off the balance!"

"Deal with it!"

Two grinning young lions rode a single bicycle in the good old fashioned illegal way, with the younger propped up on the handlebars, bare legs dangling below cut-off shorts and keeping his tail out of the spokes, while the elder did all the work of pedaling and trying to steer with extra weight on the forward portion of the bike. It was summer, the elder back from his first year of college, the younger, just shy his sixteenth birthday, halfway through his high school years. Each had been through changes, but only one was ready to talk about them.

The long lane led through the last of town to the northeast, and from there came a trail, long worn from hikers and kids and weekend adventurers, into the trees of unclaimed land. Some of it was turned into a park, but any young boy worth his fur could penetrate to the places where the grownups wouldn't be able to find them. A section of stream wound its way through trees and rocks, replete with little places where boys could play, or dream, or talk about how gross girls were, and later how cool they were. The place that the lions had claimed as their own was still there--overhanging rocks that made a small waterfall, and if you knew exactly where to look, a small rocky place behind that was perfect for those super-secret meetings, or for warm weather skinny-dipping.

Yeah, it was warm enough.

Two shorts and two shirts went flying onto the river bank, and in moments the air was filled with the shrieks and shouts of two very wet cats, tusslin' and tumblin', wrasslin' and pouncin', until both were weak with laughter and the memories of many long and beautiful summers. They stretched out on warm rocks to dry themselves, far from prying eyes and ears. And as they lay there, getting back their breath, the elder brother gathered himself for a conversation that he had dreaded.

"Hey, Michael," he said conversationally enough. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Wazzup, bro?"

Daniel rolled over onto one elbow and looked at his blood kin. "There's something I need to tell you."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Did Mom put you up to this? She's been on me about my grades all year, and I keep telling her--"

"No, it's not about you. It's about me."

"What about you?"

Daniel hesitated. Part of him just wanted to plunge in with two very simple words, but he worried about their impact. Maybe if he built up to it a little bit. "I've been finding out a lot about myself this past year, at college."

Michael stood up and walked to the edge of the large warm rock. "Hey, man, don't trying putting me into your college trip. I don't even wanna go; I'm gonna rock the house down, just me and my favorite ax."

"You were more right than you thought."

The younger lion blinked. "About what?"

"About what you said at Christmas dinner. You were right."

"I don't remember," Michael lied.

"You asked about Allison, if she were my girlfriend, or if maybe I'd rather have--"

"I don't wanna hear this--"

Daniel reached out his hand. "Michael. I need you to hear me."

"Fuck off!"

"Michael!"

The younger brother whirled on his sibling. "What are you trying to tell me? That you're a fag? That you've been wanting my ass all these years?"

"Michael, I've never--"

"Goddamn faggot!" Michael grabbed for his clothes. "Quit lookin' at me, you shit-packin' fag!"

Daniel stared, dumbfounded. He couldn't understand, couldn't grasp what was happening. Michael, who more often than not spouted a line of rocker's gibberish and Goth anarchy, now sounded more like the high school bullies than anyone Daniel could possibly be related to. "Michael, I wouldn't be telling you this if it weren't important. You're my brother, and I love you."

Half-dressed, Michael flew across the rock and landed on Daniel with a fury. Claws extended, he slashed at Daniel, his face a rictus of horror and anger. Daniel grabbed his brother's wrists in the tightest hold he could muster; his many hours lifting weights and mock-wrestling with Marcus had saved him from a vicious slashing. Getting his feet underneath Michael, Daniel pushed ferociously upward, shoving his younger brother off of him and temporarily knocking the wind out of him. In that moment, Daniel pounced atop the younger lion and pinned him down to the rock.

"Listen to me!" he screamed. Michael continued to struggle, fear in his eyes. The sight pierced Daniel's heart to the core. "I'm still your brother! I'm still the guy who kept you out of trouble with Dad when he was ready to skin you down to your veins. I'm the guy who got ridiculed by all the jocks at school, and you lay in wait for them one day and pelted them with rocks and ran like hell all the way home to tell me about it. Nothing has changed!"

"Get off me!"

"Not until you tell me what this is all about!"

Michael roared--not yelled, not screamed, not shouted, but roared. The sound would have scattered a herd of a hundred lesser animals, primal, violent. Daniel felt a chill that paralyzed him. Michael saw the advantage instantly and hurled the older lion backward. Daniel grunted heavily, stunned. Michael stood over him, his eyes terrifying in their intensity.

"I'm not part of any family that's got fags," he said. "Fags should die! Goddamn you, I oughta--"

Michael raised his foot, prepared to deliver a devastating blow to Daniel's ribs. Daniel braced himself, terrified, able only to remember the night not long ago when he would have been beaten nearly to a pulp by a trio of Leland College football players. If Marcus hadn't come along, he might not even be alive now. Now, when his little brother might finish the job...

The moment protracted until Daniel wondered if time had actually stood still. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the bike. Gathering himself, Daniel found his clothes and put them on quickly. There was nothing to do but go back to the house and hope that Michael would be more willing to listen when he got there.

* * * * *

"...and this is what I found when I got back."

Daniel looked around the room, letting it speak the volumes that he couldn't. Marcus put an arm around his young lover and squeezed him tightly. "I wonder what happened to make him say all that."

"Don't know."

The wolf shivered gently. "Let's get out of here. This isn't someplace you need to be right now."

"I won't argue that point."

* * * * *

Don't leave me now Cause I'm afraid what you've done to me Is now the wolf in my bed In my head...

In the kitchen, Daniel remembered his duties as a host long enough to fix some soft drinks for himself and Marcus. They sat at the kitchen table, neither knowing what to say. It was too strange. Both of them had seen homophobia up close and personal, on more than one occasion, but never had this level of violence been so close to home.

"I walked in about the time Mom came back from running some errands," Daniel said sadly. "She hadn't seen him go either. There was no warning, no way to know. We walked up to Michael's room together, found everything like you saw it..." The young lion dropped his head sadly.

"It's not your fault," Marcus said. "There's no way you could have known Michael's reaction."

"I still feel responsible."

"I know that." Marcus put his hand over his lover's, held it gently. "And I guess that's natural to feel responsible for these kinds of things, but you really aren't. You're only responsible for what you are, not for your brother's reaction. You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you acted out of the highest love that you knew." Marcus had no idea where these words were coming from, but he was immensely grateful for them. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Thank you."

Wolf and lion turned sharply toward the third voice that had spoken so softly. Daniel rose quickly from the table, suddenly worried. "Mom."

Daniel's mother stood just inside the kitchen door, her keys still in her hand. The expression on her face was gentle and friendly. She looked at Marcus and nodded. "I've been trying to tell Daniel exactly that. Perhaps he'll believe it if we both tell him."

Slowly, Marcus rose, uncertain what to do. "Mrs. King," he said. He looked to Daniel, and risked the truth. "Daniel called; he sounded so upset that I--"

He stopped as she nodded again. "I understand. I'm glad that you could be here for him." She glanced up at the kitchen clock. "It's a long way back to Leland. Daniel, perhaps you could fix up the bed in your room for your guest, and you could stay in Stephanie's room tonight."

"I wouldn't want to impose..."

"Not at all." The lioness' smile was almost a smirk. "My husband won't be back for several days, don't worry. And I promise not to ask you about your grades or the scholarship." The expression softened. "Please stay. I know that Daniel needs you, and I wouldn't mind having someone to cook for tonight. It might make things feel a little more ... normal around here."

Marcus didn't know exactly how to take that; it felt a little too good to be true. He knew his manners well enough, however, and with a little bow, he said, "Thank you, Mrs. King. I'm very grateful."

"Daniel, go make sure your room is clean for a change," she grinned. For perhaps the first time since the afternoon's events had begun, Daniel smiled too. He stepped over and hugged her tightly.

"I love you, Mom," he said.

She hugged him back, kissed his cheek. Then, with a playful swat at his tail, she said, "Scoot. I want to talk to Marcus for a moment."

Daniel looked back over his shoulder as he left, and Marcus saw there a look of reassurance--so much as if to say that everything would be all right, don't worry.

The lioness gestured Marcus back to his chair as she took the one Daniel had been sitting in. She set her keys to one side and folded her hands on the table. For a long moment, she simply looked at the young wolf, with a soft smile playing about her lips. "We've never really had a chance to talk, have we?" she said.

"No, ma'am." Marcus hated the brief response, but he just didn't know what to expect.

She smiled. "Let's not understate things. The only time we met turned into an explosion!"

Marcus laughed nervously. "I really didn't mean to--"

"I know," she said. "You and Alan really are a lot alike--Daniel was right about that. It wasn't an easy meeting, no matter what the circumstances; it was too easy for it to explode." A soft sigh escaped her lips. "I've never had the chance to apologize for that to you, in person."

"You didn't do anything."

"Exactly." The lioness smiled wryly. "I could have, I suppose--maybe even should have--but that's past, and we can't change it. I'd like to change the direction things are going now."

Marcus stiffened, preparing for the blow--and again was surprised.

Softly, Daniel's mother said, "I'd like to get to know the young man that my son is so in love with."

* * * * *

The challenges we faced were hard enough; They get harder now, Even when we think that we've had enough. Don't feel alone, because it's I you understand; I'm your sedative--take a piece of me whenever you can...

Marcus opened his eyes to the darkness around him, then turned toward the soft knock at the door. Daniel, wearing a robe, came into the room smiling. "Mom's asleep," he said. "Or at least that's what she promised earlier."

"Are you joking?" Marcus sat up in the bed and propped himself against the wall behind. "Does your mother know you're here, little boy?"

"Probably." Daniel loosened the robe and let it fall away from his lean young body, disproving any part of the phrase "little boy."

"She's really something else, nothing like what I'd expected." Marcus shook his head in disbelief. Daniel crawled under the covers to snuggle next to the wolf, put his head against his lover's chest. "I didn't think she'd want me anywhere near the house, much less invite me to stay the night. She approves of this?"

"Maybe so. I know that she at least acknowledges it. She talked to me a little after you went to bed. Her biggest concern isn't about us, really; it's about living life as a gay man. She has some idea just how tough that's going to be, from what she's seen in the news, on television, and so on. She's worried about me being safe--not diseases, but society."

"That's a very sophisticated lady," Marcus said, admiration in his voice. "She asked me some questions about my background, but she didn't dig. She knows that Dad drank, that he hit me, that I left because of it--but she didn't press me for details. She just let it be. The biggest thing she asked me was if I loved you."

"So what did you tell her?" Daniel grinned.

Marcus weighed the advantages of replying jokingly to such a straight line, but he discounted it. "I told her the truth, without any hesitation. I looked her in the eye and told her that I would love you forever and a day, and that I would protect you against anyone who would ever try to hurt you. I told her that I'll never leave you, and that you've become a part of my life that I can't imagine being without."

The lion squeezed his lover closer. "And what did she say?"

"She took my hand and looked into my eyes, and she thanked me. I think she might have been about to cry. I know I almost did."

"Not what you expected, was it?"

"No. I've been too used to being hit, not touched." Marcus bent down to kiss Daniel passionately. "I am so lucky to have found you. I love you so much, Daniel."

"I love you, Marcus."

The night lay easily around them.

* * * * *

The street corner wasn't too crowded, nor too hot--strange on both counts, since it was more than a week past the fourth of July. The young lion had propped open his guitar case, and he was regaling the local passers-by with some interesting renditions of tunes made popular in the past five years or so. His monetary take was small; maybe this crowd didn't appreciate the really good stuff, and he'd have to switch to some geezer-head like Buffett or Rush.

It took a while, but he finally realized that he was being watched by a tall coyote, himself carrying a guitar case, his ears poking through the brim of a straw hat that had seen better days. The lion steeled himself; sometimes, you had to fight for a corner, and he was ready to take the old sucker on. Or worse, the guy thought he was a street hustler. No way he was going to make money doing that shit, no way in hell.

He took himself through another song, a compromise point--some R.E.M. stuff that wasn't too bad. A couple of the passing execs coughed up some coins for that one. As he rounded out the chords, he heard the voice next to him.

"Interesting chord progression."

The coyote was right next to him. His smile was disarming, but that could just be cover. People were screwy in this town. "Thanks," he said, non-committally.

"What's your main groove?"

The lion shrugged. "Not sure. Anything that'll make a buck, I guess." He looked up sharply. "In music, nothin' else."

"Good," the coyote smiled. "I don't do any hustling except with my guitar, either. So we should get along fine. Wanted to show you something."

The coyote opened the case and brought out a real fine looking old ax, maybe an old Fender. He tuned for a second, then said, "Play that last chorus again."

The young lion did as asked, slowly, as the old coyote followed along.

"There," he said at once. "What's your chord?"

"G major 7th."

"Try this instead." Very talented hands reworked the chorus, changing that chord into another, fully diminished.

The lion's eyes bulged. "That's it! That's the stroke I was looking for. What's the fingering?"

With the coyote demonstrating, the lion swiftly learned the new pattern, adding it to his already large store of technique and style. "Tight!" he said grinning. "Where'd you pick that up?"

"I've learned a lot of black-and-blues over the years, kiddo. Glad to see someone who wants to learn a bit of it."

"You bet!" He hesitated only a moment longer, then asked, "You wanna play a bit, see if we can harmonize or something?"

"Worth a try."

"My name's Michael. What's yours?"

The coyote smiled softly. "They call me Scratch Rose."

November 2001