El Coyote \o/

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Running through the moorland, a favorite activity, had changed lately into more of a... loping through the moorland. Liss's stamina was much reduced, her appetite bolstered, her wanderlust diminished.

Diminished, but not absent entirely. Though she kept her treks to the borderlands of Camhanaich, she continued to make them. The only thing worse than overexertion these days was sitting still.

She followed grasshoppers through heather, tail wagging, and hummed an old Havir song to herself that floated across blooming fields into the wind.

While departure from the pups had not been an easy decision, he didn't deny the pressure off his chest that followed leaving; remaining within the human-touched building did little but serrate already frazzled nerves.

In the same vein, he is unused to wandering nature. It feels kind in a manner he doesn't think suits him; quiet, gentle.

He navigates about grasses with attentive twitches of ears until a peculiarity among the heather catches his attention. He looks, and stops. Coyote initially thinks to turn and leave but if he's noticed her then, undoubtedly, she's noticed him. "Perdón, chica," (Sorry, girl,) he says, shaking his head as though already dismissing himself. "Did not mean to interrupt your, ah, singing? I am just," and then he lifts a great paw to gesture. "Going through. Mean no trouble."

Her song cut off, owly eyes affixed on the stranger. He spoke first a language he didn't know, and she was more than a little relieved when he continued on in Common. You didn't interrupt! She said, beaming. Someone so polite couldn't possibly mean her harm, she was certain! Even if they did look all big and scary like this fella! I was exploring! I guess was exploring so I could find you! I'm Liss! And you're near Camhanaich, but they — we! We're friendly.

Trotting up to him with tail raised high in a bright waving wag, she aimed to sniff at him. Are you a loner? I bet you have some fun stories! Then a gasp, Woah! You teeth! They're — so shiny, how did you do that!

She's a small thing and like all those he's met before, he anticipates her to nod and await his departure, therefore he finds himself uncertain when he is not turned away. Coyote opens his mouth to speak but she is faster than him, wordier, and he feels a bit at her mercy.

Her approach sees him taking a step back, chin tucked to his chest so that he may look down. "Liss, yes? I, ah—" and she continues on with a thrum of awe. Their proximity uneases him as warmth clings at his face but it is in this closing of space that he scents a familiar note on the wind.

On her.

Why is everyone he meets pregnant?

"I did not, I would not," he tells her. "Men did." Coyote is not unkind when he says this, voice lacking the sternness it might otherwise hold with another, but it is flat—unamused. It is nothing to be intrigued by. "You call me Coyote."

He steps aside then, hoping to earn some distance. "Stories? Maybe. I don't know. What makes a story?" Coyote looks around them then, searching for Mintaka and forcing himself to settle when he doesn't find her. His tail twitches. "Camhanaich, this is pack? Not good being far like you are. I know that."

Realizing his discomfort belatedly, Liss took a couple of (small) steps back. Her head cocked, Men? Of course, he was not done being strange! Coyote? But you're not a — wait, really? Are you? Hah! Her voice deepened in playful amusement, and fell into a half-bow, I mean, yeah. You've gotta be the coyote, huh? The coyote of all coyotes. Well, if I was twice as tall every other lupine and thrice as bulky, maybe I'd be calling myself Wolf, too!

But no, she was not done talking! Anything can be a story! Hasn't anyone ever told you one before? My favorite growing up was taking turns with others at dinner. Like, I'd start out, 'Once upon a time there was a big shaggy fella who wandered in off the Anvil, with teeth that sparkled like starlight!' and then, she pointed at him, I'd wave my paw at someone new's turn, and they'd take over, like,— here she morphed her voice again, imitating someone else — He had fallen from the sky, sent by the gods to dazzle and delight all nonbelievers, but he was lonely because he was the only star on the whole earth, and then—

Liss straightened a little, You know, like that! Oooor a real life story works, too. Like, once time, a baby owl fell out its nest and my mom found it. And she had to team up with a dispersal to get it back. She stood on their head, and the little owl sat on her snout, and they made themselves as tall as the tree all together! Her laughter was wild as she sank further down into the grass, tail still thumping.

Oh! Camhanaich is a pack, yeah! They're Druids! I guess that makes me one, too. But I was taught by my home pack to be an Outrider. I've been allllll over Mythris, looking for my family and meeting new faces! I can handle myself! Her grin turned growlish, still playful.

Coyote stares at her all slack-jawed as she begins and... Ah, never seems to end. He tries to interject, he really does. Almost too puzzled for the likes of discomfort to remain in his chest. "I - no, men said this my name, not me," he clarifies the best he knows how to with what little room she provides but the topic lingers only as long as her tongue chooses. Stories now. "An...Anvil? What is this?"

Story again! This time with a cadence that pins his ears back against his skull with a pang of deepening bewilderment. A star, he thinks. Why would a star be here? How? Why did she not elaborate on this?

Another story!

And by now he's beginning to sink, captive audience, with every new word another inch is gained to bring him closer to the dirt. "Owl? Why for owl all that," Coyote's haunches thump against the ground now. He concedes. He folds! He is so taken aback by the very nature of this wolf that he can only stare in her direction with a strange attentiveness to him.

There is, in slowly budded succession, a faint endearment. Liss is encantador (charming) in the way sweet things typically are. For this, he's uncertain how to deny her continuance, so he does not. Coyote only takes in the brief quiet before he speaks, "I don't doubt that, chica, with teeth like those you are well," he offers a smile that's softer than he intends. "But you grow tired in time, not so quick, no?"

Coyote is blunt here, lowering his head so that he might be somewhat level with her. "Pregnancy is not easy far from others, I have seen. Not good, no, no, not at all."

Her smile strained a little. Oh! That! Well... I'm not so far. I have a den set up and everything, and the Druids have the best healers! Plus, my mom, she went into battle pregnant. And even got wounded in the fighting, then had me the night of the victory! If she can do that then I think I'll be ok. Mostly, she tried not to think too much about her condition. It still didn't quite feel real. That's one of my favorite stories!

And well, birds are sacred to Mum's people! I don't know why the loner helped her, though. Liss paused for a moment to think. Maybe they were just nice? If someone asked you to help, wouldn't you? I would. Liss nodded. I think that must be it. Or maybe they thought she was pretty, and wanted to impress her! A snicker.

The Anvil was a place back home, in the Vale — For a moment, something nearly wistful possessed her voice. It was a big... empty kind of place, No water, got real hot. You had to cross it to get... To get... Her mind itched. Somewhere else. But it kept our border safe. Just about anyone who crossed it to find us was Vandr.

Again, into the play bow, this time with a bark, A big scary outsider not to be trusted! But I always liked them. My family was way too worried about strangers. I guess that's fair, I mean, the Vale got invaded once. They tried to kill my Papa. But there were also a lot of nice loners out there! I mean, just look at you!

Very nice indeed!

Her head tilted. So.. when you say men named you Coyote? You mean like... your father? Some wolves in Mythris talked this way. Woman, not she-wolf. Liss hadn't paid it any particular mind, she figured it was just a peculiarity of language. My Mum named me, Elisabet! But I like Liss better. You know, if you don't want to be Coyote, she deepened her voice around the word again, amused, You could always pick something else! Like Coy... though that makes you sound bashful. Or... Ote. Oh-tee? Hmm... You'd have to explain it all the time I bet. Maybe Errol!