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fingerpaint the sky

till everything shines

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Christmas fic, for acsumama
[misc] dreamers
Merry Christmas, Stenny! Here, as requested, is something original about llama hunting.

When you hear about zoo escapes, I thought sourly, you hear about gorillas, or tigers, or hordes of screeching monkeys. Something impressive, charismatic, something that represents the triumph of wild nature over iron bars or the danger of rampaging animals breaking the fragile constraints that keep civilization safe, depending on who's writing the story.

Not llamas.

Or, in this particular case, a llama, an old male with a dingy white pelt and a head full of sullen cunning. He'd gotten out nearly a week ago, and even now no one was quite sure how, and had proceeded to evade all the authorities. The zookeepers, the police, animal control, whatever private citizens listened to the news and would be inclined to call in with reports about a llama in the backyard. Oh, we got some calls, but mostly after the fact or accounts of neighbor's gossip, as if the llama was thumbing his nose at us all.

His name, predictably enough, was Snowflake.

Now, though, a woman had called in. There was a llama in her yard, she said shrilly, and he was very large and he'd eaten half her marigolds and would somebody please come get him out? I rounded the corner onto her street, humming tunelessly, and pulled over. Throwing the car into park, I checked over my tranq gun and loaded in a dart. The sharp point gleamed, and I smiled tight and dangerous.

Snowflake was going down.

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I like muchly. Thanks!

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