It was a Friday night, as I recall, when reports arrived at the Fang & Feather about a gang of young men smoking pot and hanging around in the darkness near Pabellón Valioso.
It is difficult to imagine a thing with less value in the Land of La Mancha than a rock.
I walked the Camino late at night, hoping to find her eating bugs at the lights. But there was no sign of her. I was in denial for a time. I told myself you can’t plan for a fox. You run into them when you run into them. Perhaps, I told myself, I’d just had a run of bad luck.
Consider the fate of this Puellae Chorum I found blooming in the center of the crushed rock construction road that runs behind the the Lost Boys cabins.