Synopsis: Trash-Bird stumbles across an intriguing young man who piques his interest during the displays of his focused, competitive spirit while running along his homemade trails. But also present there in the Earth Runner is a great hurt from his past. Trash-Bird's going to have to speak his language to get through that thick skull. Off to the starting line it is.

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The Three-Legged Race

by K9Lupus

Trash-Bird had now spent hours timing this strangely fascinating young man as he ran his network of self-constructed trails. Even with the afternoon sun beating down on them he displayed remarkable endurance, and even more intriguing than that, a profound joy in the act. Sherwin had referred to himself as an Earth Runner, one who chose to run on four legs instead of two because it let him feel closer to his spirit. Odd. Of course that's coming from a half-blind, half-deaf werecoyote so Trash-Bird didn't have much room to judge.

Trash assisted him as able to, making a barrage of crowd-cheering noises or playing announcer to Sherwin's tight, winding turns or extended dashes on straightaways.

“Mira! Como un rayo! Corriendo! Corriendo! Corriendo!Ayyyyyyyy! El termine primer lugar!”

This exchanges continued until near the end of one of Sherwin's laps he called out, “And the crowd goes wild for the DOG BOY!” Sherwin skidded immediately to a halt, then turned and padded over to where Trash-Bird stood with a surprisingly stern look on his face.

“I really don't like it when people call me that. Dog Boy.” he said, lifting himself up so that he was standing tall on his legs with his long arms draped in front of him, appearing alien from his typical quadrupedal stance.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Calmate amigo! You have to own your name so it doesn't have power over you anymore. I'm not trying to hurt you by saying that. Look at me. My name's Trash-Bird, and I don't let it get me down. It means I get to find the things that others leave behind. It's honestly pretty amazing what you're able to do. You have to be ok with that because that's what makes you different from everyone else, and no one's going to take that away from you unless you let them.”

Sherwin's expression eased somewhat as he took a deep breath and kept his eyes fixed at Trash-Bird's feet as he lowered himself back down to standing on his hands and feet.

“Sorry...I....it's still hard for me to hear that.” Sherwin managed to say before sitting back on his faux haunches.

“No worries. I totally get it, but thinking too hard about stuff like that is only going to get you bogged down. You got to let those things go. You know what, I bet even with the way you are you can't outrun a fine, three-legged werecoyote such as myself.” Trash-Bird said, puffing up his chest.

Sherwin laughed at Trash's mock bravado. “Sure, why not? Let's see what you can do.” he said, sliding his hands forward in a deep stretch.

*******

Trash-Bird sat on the ground and looked from himself back to Sherwin, and that was when he could see the unease coursing through Trash's one green eye.

“Don't start using this for fetch or anything like that, am I clear?” Trash-Bird said.

There was an unfamiliar shakiness to his tone. Who Sherwin had once thought was a wall of self-assurance had his cracks too.

“Of course.” Sherwin said before laying down in the shade of a nearby tree to give Trash-Bird space for what was to come.

Trash removed his prosthetic lower left leg, and with his eye drifting closed began to let the change began to pass over him. Tufts of gray and white fur quickly filled in over the space of his body and a long, pointed snout emerged from his face. His hands and feet shifted to pairs of lanky, compact paws and a long brush of a tail emerged at the base of his spine. In mere minutes Trash-Bird stood as a fully changed coyote, and once Sherwin was certain that the last vestiges of transformation had left his body he led Trash over to the starting line.

“To the large tree over on the other side of the field. Got it?”

Trash-Bird nodded and dug his forepaws into the giving soil beneath him. Sherwin counted down, “Three....two...one...GO!” before they were both off, racing quickly to the large tree.

Sherwin caught quick glances at Trash-Bird's determined rush as they ran, impressed by the coyote's technique and agility even with his missing appendage. Trash had never been one to be slowed down by handicap or circumstance and he was well able to prove that he was capable of holding his own.

Although Sherwin touched the tree first by a few lengths, he wanted to see more of Trash-Bird's running and so he immediately pointed back in the other direction.

“And all the way back too!” Sherwin said, waiting for Trash to be at his side by the tree before tearing off down the path with Trash-Bird beside him. This continued until after the fifth consecutive dash, Trash-Bird crumpled forward in the short grass beneath the shaded tree and spread his limbs out, gradually allowing himself to shift back to his human state once more. Once human enough, he walked with Sherwin to gather up his clothing left behind at the starting line.

“That....was surprisingly fun.” Trash-Bird said while fumbling with his shirt and itching at a lingering patch of fur at his shoulder.

“Yeah, that was great.” Sherwin said as the two eyed each other now with a greater sense of appreciation for their differences.

Right then, a medium-sized dog, mostly white with scattered black patches across its body and a ragged right ear accenting a bevy of facial scars approached with a quiet rumbling growl tickling the back of its throat. Sherwin lowered his body closer to the ground and his tail gave a few short anxious strokes behind him.

“Oh, no need to worry about Calaca. He's just checking on me since I haven't been around for a little while. He can get a little overprotective with strangers.”

“I see that.” Sherwin said, backing up a few steps.

“Calaca, a mi lado.” The growling immediately stopped, and the dog sat beside its master, looking up at him with calm, sky-blue eyes.

“This is Calaca. Found him stranded along an old highway a few months back. Poor thing was rail-thin with a banged up leg and enough puncture marks you'd think those were his spots instead. He didn't take too kindly to me at first, but who could blame him? When the people that you trust suddenly up and go and you're left fending on your own...I know what that's like. I put a good meal in his belly for the first time in who knows how long and when I was ready to go the little bastard hopped right on in the car. Calaca was free to come and go as he pleased, but he always came back at the end of the day. Now I can't imagine what life would be like without him.” Trash said, affectionately patting the dog's head to its clear delight.

“Tell you what. You beat me, but how about you try giving racing Calaca a try. I'm sure he'd be a much better match for you Hombre Perrito. You win, and you get the last of the fries from earlier today bundled up in the car. Marinated to perfection beneath a sea of salt and ketchup.” Trash said, his long canine teeth flashing in his broad smile.

“And if I lose?” Sherwin asked, intrigued by the offer.

“Then you have to clean my car. ” Trash affirmed, pointing back towards his light-blue hodgepodge of an assembled 4-door sedan.

“You're on!” Sherwin retorted, standing tall with his tail raised; his pale-amber eyes shining with a contagious competitive fire at the chance to test his limits.

*******

Sherwin sat himself down at the base of the trail where Trash-Bird was waiting a distance away before it gave way to a bending curve that descended deeper into the forest beyond. Beside him, Calaca was laid forward on his belly, patiently waiting for Trash's signal. Sherwin was impressed by the level of discipline the dog showed, but wasn't keen on holding anything back for this final run. Trash raised his hands into the air, and began an air countdown with his fingers from five. At the last second, he loosed a shrill whistle that caught Calaca's attention, and Sherwin leapt forward at the same time he did, barreling down the path with all of his might.

“Rápido! Rápido!” Trash shouted, slapping at his thighs while Sherwin and Calaca raced down the trail neck and neck. Sherwin urged his muscles to give a little more despite the fatigue already setting in from his previous runs. Each swift leap and stride burned down to his fingers and toes, but Sherwin would not give up. So powerful was the churning of his limbs that midway into his sprint the chest and belly latches of his jacket were pulled open from the rocking of his body. Sherwin's jacket peeled away behind him and landed onto the dirt as a veritable harbinger of his impending victory, leaving him a shining blur of flesh and dust the last few yards as he narrowly crossed the drawn-out line only a second in front of Calaca.

“Que lástima! The Dog Boy squeaks out a win in the end. So long my beloved fries. I knew thee well.” Trash said, turning to see Sherwin trembling slightly with exertion, his tongue lolled forward out of his mouth as he panted hard, his eyes unmistakably screaming out the word:

Again!

*******

Sherwin, Trash-Bird, and Calaca all sat together in an untidy line in front of Trash-Bird's car as Sherwin teased another french fry free of the grease-soaked bag, savoring the flavors and the much needed calories after all of his adventure today.

“You need some too.” Sherwin said, offering the last few fries at the bottom of the bag back to Trash-Bird which was kin to offering refined gold in the werecoyote's eye.

“Nah. I didn't run like you've been running this whole time. You need it more.” Trash-Bird dismissed.

“But you still ran all the same. Even Calaca had a couple from me.” Sherwin said, practically tossing the bag into his lap.

Trash-Bird tentatively took the bag from Sherwin's hand. “Thanks.” he said, reaching in to grab a crunchy fry while casting his eyes back towards the running trail.

“It was a good challenge racing Calaca, but I had more fun racing you Pájaro del Basura.” Sherwin said with a pleased hum, leaning forward afterward to stretch his aching shoulders.

Trash-Bird querked his brow, then slightly shoved against Sherwin's shoulder before voicing a restrained chuckle. “Now you're starting to get it.” Trash-Bird said with a beaming grin.

“Will you be back to visit again?” Sherwin asked.

Trash-Bird set the french fry bag down, tucking his legs up against his body while Calcala sniffed the remaining contents of the yummy treats nearby.

“Don't know. I control where I travel as much as someone can control the wind...” he began.

Sherwin's eyes grew solemn, and Trash-Bird noticed him biting at the edge of his lip.

Maybe this time it'll work out ok. Trash-Bird thought before picking the french fry bag back up.

“...But if I'm ever in the neighborhood, I'll be sure to stop by.” Trash-Bird ended.

“I'd like that.” Sherwin said, his tail thumping quietly against the side of one of Trash's car tires as the two took turns finishing off the last few fries, being sure to save the last juicy morsel for Calcala.

END

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Here's my half for the second of two collaborative projects I worked on with featuring his coyote shapeshifter character Trash-Bird. I promise that my characters' strong food motivations speak nothing about me as a creator. Nope. Not related at all. :P

Hope you all are taking care and staying safe with the world seeming to be going every which way. We'll get through this together. :)

~Lupus

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K9 Lupus Commission Info

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