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."