Honeyed Pasture inviting the monsters

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Nechako had grown tired of the fat, loud, obnoxious coyote - or whatever the hell it was. He was retreating, having made his point quite clear by the confident defecation he had performed, and he wasn't about to linger while the stupid animal yapped at him.

All he wanted now was to return home. He wanted to be with his wives, and to tell his tale of the milk snow. Yet the creature hounded him incessantly. He pivoted his rear end so that it faced her face each time she rounded a corner, whisked his tail suggestively, but did nothing aside from pick up his pace to a more determined trot. If she chased him she would lose him; if she tried to strike, he was chiefly aligned to kick back. A warning shot would've done the trick, but Nechako was a warrior - he wasn't afraid of cracking jaws or pulverizing bones with his thick hooves.

Eventually he would escape from her — whether it was because she gave up the chase, or because he picked up his speed and bolted through the wilderness in order to return to the plains. Either way, he had left his message, although Nechako was oblivious to how it had been received.
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