Literature
Mercy
"Stop him, now. Catch him under your foot, like that. Don't let him get away. Grab his head."
I could feel the dove's beak thrashing in my half-hearted grip, an odd slick scraping just beyond the soft ruffled feathers.
"Hold him tight, don't let him get away. You're gonna have to give it a good yank."
I could feel my lips shaping the echo of a question, but I was transfixed by a dark red smear on the side of my shoe, barely big enough to fit across the bird's back, barely big enough to hold it in place.
"Yes, pull it off. He's in pain. We shot him, but we don't let him suffer if we can help it."
I could feel the dove's neck, fragile but
