I’ve heard the legends and now I know they are true.

Coyotl, a disciple of Quetzalcoatl,  is a neolithic shaman, who wanders the hills of Nockamixon in spirit form, luring men into his realm and devouring their soul.

He only lures men, whose minds are simpler and souls easier to devourer than women or teenagers who don’t take his shit.

I often hear him howling deep in the woods at night. Sometimes at my door. Then one night, in my shower. When I open the plastic curtain expecting to be mauled by a wild canine, all I found was a puff of green smoke and the smell of marshmallows (a sure sign of Coyotl).

When I mentioned this to the herbalist at the health food store, she fired a big wet, wad of saliva on me. Ptew!

Apparently, this is an ancient protective ritual to protect me from being devoured. I’m just assuming, though. She never really explained.

The next day, while trespassing in my neighbor’s woods looking for truffles, I suddenly heard a terrifying howl right behind me. I did a quick tuck & roll, cupped my genitals and climbed halfway up a tree. The howling got louder and more fierce.

When I looked down, I saw a pair of malevolent icy eyes staring at me, so I took a picture. It was a little blurry so I tried again. I didn’t like the exposure in that one so I made some adjustments and fire off a few more shots. Still too dark.

I was thinking about adding some fill flash, when Coyotl burst from the icy ground, oak leaves stuck to his face and began to approach me. (I would have I gotten that shot, but I was set on the wrong ISO and it would have been too noisy).

I could feel myself being lured, like a turtle. I feared for my soul and then I remembered the lady saliva. I was protected!

Coyoytl must have sensed this. He froze and locked eyes with me. The reek of uncooked s’mores filled the air.

I got light-headed and fell out of the tree into the mud below. As I lay there, stunned, Coyotl devoured my soul.

I wasn’t protected after all.

Apparently, the herbalist was just spitting on me.

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