Panic laced his mind and he rushed backwards, sweating in the wind. He did not know where to remember. Panic is not ruled by time or logic and evades categorization. It was two minutes past four. He had been shooting at a black squirrel. The animal is maddened to a frenzy,distracted, bleeding. The child realizes that the animal is going to die. His mother raises her eyes at him, frowns.
She asks, "Did I ever teach you to shoot at animals, Jonathan?"
"Then don't ask me now."
"It's going to die--It's going to--"
"Perhaps you'll learn the result of your actions"
"I will, I promise, please"
The boy struck a pact with his mother and surgery was performed on the squirrel with an eye tweezer. After the shot was removed and the wound disinfected, the boy made a soft bed for the squirrel. Several hours later, the squirrel began tearing up the little bed box and cotton, stopped, cocked its head to one side, stiffened.

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