You laugh and gulp down what bits have held together. "MY FRIEND BEL IS A PRISSY WUSSFACE WHO WON'T GET HIS DAINTY PAWS MESSY," you howl back. Far, far in the distance you can hear a coyote give the familiar series of yips and wails: "don't come over here i'm fucking huge as shit!" "OH YOU ARE NOT, SHUT UP!" you howl back. "no i'm really big don't come here!"
"OKAY NOW I WANT TO SEE THE HUGE ASS COYOTE WE'RE COMING OVER BRO" you howl back, and turn to Erskin with a mischevious grin. "Wanna? Do not touch me with the rot pancake," you add as he frisks closer. "Go touch the coyote with it. I dare you."
"i'm too big i'll tear your head off! don't come over!" screams the coyote, nervously. "SURE LET'S GO SEE, THERE'S GOOD EATING ON COYOTES," you agree with Bel. "wait are you guys not coyotes? also don't come over i'm really scary!! you can't eat me!" "WE'RE COYOTES TOO DEFINITELY," you howl, pitching your voice deliberately lower than most coyotes manage on the yips. There's absolute silence from the vicinity of your new comrade. In the very, very, very far distance, another coyote goes "what the fuck was that?" "So we're probably not going to catch so much as a glimpse of his tailtip, but let's go see," you laugh.
"WE'RE DOGS!" you howl, super convincingly. "TINY PURSE DOGS ACTUALLY! STAY PUT IT WILL TAKE US A WHILE TO GET THERE ON OUR STUBBY LEGS!" There's enough human in you to take note of which direction you're headed relative to the direction you think you're supposed to be headed, but not enough to make you think it's anything but a brilliant idea to go have a look at these coyotes and make friends or chase them around or maybe both.
It's well into morning before you find the coyote's range. The coyote himself seems to have vacated, leaving only a lot of bold scent-marking behind. You sniff around, chase and fail to catch a bird, and catch wind of a second coyote peering cautiously through the long grass over a slight hill. "Wow, you guys are definitely not coyotes," she says. "Do you really eat coyotes? I'm too fast, by the way. I'm way too fast for you to eat me, let's just put that fact right out in front of all of us to sniff at and not eat me." The canids around here are really bold. You kind of like it, it's refreshing, even if it's a lot more social interaction than you usually get. By the sprightly waving of Bel's tail, he really likes it.
You laugh. "Of course we don't eat coyotes. You guys are all fur and toenails. We were just bored and felt like meeting new folk." You go a little closer, bouncy and not at all like you're stalking prey, which you aren't. "We're lost but it's a nice day so we don't care."
"I'm fat," the coyote says, her hind end going up in a challenging play-bow. She grins and teases, "I could make you two monsters a big meal, I'm so fat. I'm the biggest coyote around." Huh. She understood everything Bel said, which is weird. He still doesn't ever think to code-switch down to the proper level for regular canids. And she made a pretty good joke. Your ears and whiskers feel like they want to come right off your head, you're so interested in what's up with this lady.
"You're not as fat as the rabbits I'm going to catch," you predict. She definitely wants to play, this is great. And your instincts know how to project play behavior, there's no awkwardness like there would be if you were trying to make friends as a human. "In fact, there's one now!" You jump at a 'rabbit' that's actually a snow-covered hummock, scattering snow everywhere. "Try this, Erskin, it's clean and refreshing, not like that manky crap you were eating."
"Sure, I think I see a really fat one right here!" you cry, and pounce on his tail. You get the big brush of it right in the middle and shake your head back and forth ferociously. While you're busy trying to keep hold of your prize, you feel a sharp tug on your own tail, and look over your shoulder to see the coyote nearly do a handstand to turn about and zip back up to her safe high ground. Bel nearly tramples you giving chase.
The coyote is fast— not as quick and nimble as the little fox was, but she certainly corners a lot better than Bel. She leads him on a wild romp all around the hill and through every single bush and shrub she can find, calling out "Slow!" and "Stupid monster!" and "You're a car, go back to the road!" You sit and watch her, feeling increasingly uneasy about the whole thing. When Bel finally flops into the snow, she comes to rest a lot closer than before, still trash-talking back and forth with him. She acts more like one of you than any coyote you've ever met, and the dissonance gets your hackles up. "You're very smart," you say, a trifle accusingly. "So what?" She goes. "I'm smarter than you! I'm smarter than everyone. I'm the smartest coyote in the world, fight me."
"You're magic, aren't you?" you guess absently as you wriggle in the snow to clean the worst of the seeds and stickers off. "Like us."
"What's magic?" she asks. "I bet I'm magic. I'm more magic than anyone. I'm so magic I'll knock your head off, Truck, see if I don't."
"Ooh, she gave me a good nickname." You spring out of the way of a pounce but still get your tail nipped, so you swish it at her and everyone has to run around a bit before there can be more conversation. You haven't forgotten what you were talking about. "Are were-coyotes a thing?" you ask Erskin. "Or maybe she's a spirit animal." You say the phrase with a full appreciation of the cheesiness of it.
"I don't know," you say uncomfortably. "I don't like it. From what I know she'd have have a werewolf parent or grandparent. Someone would have had to fuck a coyote. That's really gross." "Fuck you!" says the coyote. "I'm hot! I'm so hot. I'd have a million babies. Anyone would be lucky to have me, even Truck." She puts her head on one side and looks Truck over. "Truck would be extra lucky to have me. I bet he's tired of fucking car ladies. I bet his junk has dents from it. It's all squashed." She stops running to laugh at her own joke. You don't like her.
"I'd rather talk about your brain than my junk," you deflect; you have zero interest in sexing up a coyote, you only wanted to play chase. To Erskin, you add, "It's not her fault what her folks got up to."
"A brain? The squishy chunks in the skull? I have one of those?" the coyote contemplates this. "I bet mine is huge and tastes great." You say, "I don't care who's fault it is, it's still gross. Here, coyote—" "Coneflower." "—what?" "My name's Coneflower. See, I'm big and round and bristly too." "Coneflower, did one of your parents ever change their shape sometimes?" "No, I don't know. Maybe. My dad went away and my mom and older siblings died. It was a big thing and it made them dead from a distance. I can't do that, I have to bite things to kill them, though I'm really good at that. I catch everything I want to. That's why I'm still here." She preens. "I can get bigger sometimes myself, but it's not very useful. I just become a big thing without skin or a face, it's cold."
You have no idea what the look means. You are just a humble werewolf who doesn't want anything to do with any amount of coyotes actually. You turn around and sit facing the other way with your ears laid back.
"Oh come on," you insist. You trot over with the intention of licking his face until he becomes amenable to reason.
