So hard to hide at this size. Even harder to protest innocence. The littles never want to talk. They never give up the chase. They swarm and bite and buzz. He cannot hear a word, but he knows the sound of hate.
So easy to run at this size. Leaping bounds and stretching strides. But that only hastens the hunt.
So tempting to turn at this size. To swat and crush and snarl, to give them the guilt they want.
But that only swells the sting. So run. Hide. Try again. Until either they understand, or he deigns to war.