As Key West went, she’d reached the westernmost of it. This was a Key West most visitors never saw. She was alone here, running out of room, her sanctuaries shrinking. A doomed species, the Silent-Breasted Kak, fleeing to live out what life she had left under the threat of an advancing civilization. Kakkus tacitus. The last of her kind. The only of her kind, actually. Doomed to extinction.
In the end, if she failed, that would be her saving grace. A willingness to die rather than be engulfed. That was the danger, after all. It wasn’t civilized domestication that doomed you. What doomed you was the lack of absolute resolve to resist at all costs. Once you wavered, once you humored the idea of living in captivity, you were finished.
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