A trio of small pigs came splashing past me from the north almost as soon as I left the sandy loam road bed. ... They took me far into the swamp, but I couldn't catch up. Instead, the swamp caught up with me, scraping from me civilization's burdensome crusts the deeper I went. Ears accustomed to screening out noises, eyes trained to look straight down sidewalks and highways, a divided mind occupied in the workaday world with one thing while I went through the motions of another—all my fractured parts got left behind like useless sloughs of skin. Soon enough a slight wind found my face and guided my course. Each movement became purposeful, each one determined by quick senses. I found myself sliding through the budding spring timber, alert for supper, on the prowl again and loving it, reclaimed, with a quiver full of keen savage teeth.

from Barely a Ripple