Rabbit Chief drums a warning with hands, not feet this time. The ceremonial drum, zigzags of golden cord fraying at the tightest points. His fur stands on end. Mine too. I squeeze my eyes shut but see only disheveled fur and cord, hear only pounding drum and pulse.
© Copyright 2019 Katherine Quevedo
Photo credit: Adrianne Mathiowetz Photography
Katherine Quevedo was born and raised just outside of Portland, Oregon, where she works as an analysis manager and lives with her husband and two sons. Her fiction has appeared in Factor Four Magazine, Thrilling Words, Apparition Literary Magazine, Heroic Fantasy Quarterly, Triangulation: Appetites, Story Seed Vault, and elsewhere. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching movies, singing, playing old-school video games, belly dancing, and making spreadsheets. Find her at www.katherinequevedo.com.