Devil’s tongue hung down, heat from the midday sun scorched the lookout rock. In the canyon below a small band of humans struggled through the twists and turns, heading straight for the Black Canyon pack’s den. The scent of dry death hung in the air. How could they not smell the spring only a few hundred yards away? Despite obvious need, the humans stumbled away from the only source of water for miles.
Humans were food to the Black Canyon leader, but Devil remembered his old human pack. Food had been plentiful, members full of love and kindness. They were gone, killed by the sky fire.
One of the human pups stumbled, then curled on the ground, whimpering. She was so like his little human. Devil reach the bottom of the canyon before he realized he had left his sentry post. The pack leader wouldn’t be happy.
Devil approached the humans cautiously, circling around until he stood between them and the spring. The scent of fear was strong, but they didn’t attack. One of the men moved toward him. Devil sprung back, toward the spring, then waited. Bit by bit he drew them closer to the spring, then sat several yards away as they drank their fill. He liked this pack. They felt right and the dried meat they tossed him was good.
Devil spun around as the Black Canyon leader approached. It was time to oust the real devil and return the Black Canyon pack to humans.