“¿Is there any way it can be cured?”
They all stared down @ the highway where there lay a red fox, its limp fingers scarred with the black marks o’ tires. The flaps o’ their baby blue scrubs flapped in the sandy wind.
The leader, Orval, without looking ‘way from the fox, said, “Only 1 way. Call Ma’isah.”
Rigoberto bit his lips. “¿Is there nothing else we can use…?”
Orval shouted, “If you want it to live, ¡call her now!”
The sound o’ blowing wind was augmented by the tiny beeps o’ dialed buttons.