Her name was Shane.
She had eyes like a dying cow and a midnight owl disposition that would make any man consider even opening his mouth and yet her humorless couture was not couched in any despair. It was the aftermath of righteous indignation and a celebration of all that the animal kingdom recognized: you corner a panther and he’ll attack. She knew what it was like to be jawned on and spurtled in to the night, the remnants of spewed saliva and discarded meat. She remembered. But she was now the prey that would choke you from a hundred yards away…And it would be too late once the grip had been felt…and loosened on your wallet.