Cum For Bigfoot

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Winter had been a difficult time for the tribe, as several of our beloved apes had perished battling Bigfoot hunters. The persistence of the intruders was breathtaking, their boldness astounding, and the damage they inflicted permanent. Archie and Tate were dead, and Leonard had been injured. His wounds were slow to heal, leaving him cranky and in pain for months.

As the snow thawed and spring became summer, we had settled south, following a traditional Sasquatch pattern. Mike had been with us for weeks, but he had returned home to start work and take care of the house. I would see him again in a month. Daisy had stayed with me. The toddler walked and babbled, while her brothers Lendal and Bubba Jr. entertained and watched over her. They also corralled Wolfie, who was a fuzzy mess of a baby ape, and so curious, he got himself into trouble nearly every day. He had recently climbed a western hemlock, following a squirrel, and gotten stuck at the top. Lendal had to retrieve him, and we had been terrified that they would both fall to their deaths.

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