Sly Fox Sand Dunes why does thou sit upon my grave

Before setting off, Widower had told @Tumbleweed where she intended to travel. 

Her days had been spent scouring the oasis, but was in desperate need of some new scenery. And what better place than the warm dunes? Perhaps she might come across new treasures, or new bodies to manipulate into joining their puny crew. But whether she did or not, she was simply glad to be away.

the sand was hot like his blood.

it was much like home, and he childishly slid down one dune on his side, relishing the warmth despite its scalding temperature. nothing here could compare to where he'd come from. he was impenetrable.

coatl rose and shook the grains from his pelt, and was preparing to wallow some more when his mint-green gaze caught sight of a shadowy form wandering the sandy hills.

que pasa, mamacita? he called out, once that form had taken more specific identity as a dark female of his own kind, perhaps a couple years older.

he'd never seen a coyotl of that color. 

strange. intriguing.

coatl trotted toward her, kicking up sand as he went.

While it had been a momentary thought, she had not truly expected to encounter any strangers during her perusing.

A master of scavenging, but also a master of many languages. Si te atreves a referirte así de nuevo, te encontrarás con una cola cortada que terminará metida en tu garganta hasta que mueras asfixiado.

She did not conceal her violent tendencies, nor would she ever try. Especially not with one so bold as this.

immediately, she shot back a quick burst of la lengua del sud and he stared at her for a few long heartbeats, poleaxed.

when silence had fallen between them once more, he opened his mouth. . .and laughed, the sound rasping in his throat, eyes creased to slits with mirth.

ayyy, no esperaba eso de ti, coatl managed, lifting a foreleg to swipe his paw across his muzzle, charmed. ¿donde aprendiste?

was she, perhaps, a refugee like himself—driven northward by the driving rain and winds, and the floods that had followed?

his nostrils flared, trying to catch any hints upon her pelt. nothing of much consequence, he thought. nowhere he recognized.

and the accent was off, in any case.

Visage contorting to a lowly grimace, the Widower lifted her chin high in a show of confidence within his presence. 

Entonces tal vez puedas aprender a esperar lo inesperado. Muchos pueden sorprenderte. Perhaps not all, but many.

Where had she learned? Truthfully, everywhere. The world had been her classroom since she could last remember. 

En algún lugar u otro. It wasn't like she could remember the precise area, or from whom she had learned. This answer would have to suffice, for he would recieve no other.

he had her measure already. she was one of those who thought they knew it all and spoke to others accordingly. he'd dealt with them many times in life; patience and a sense of humor were key to dealing with their insufferable high-handedness.

then again, maybe he just hated women.

¡¿pero por qué?! he asked, somewhat dramatically, in reply to her first sentiment. his already smiling face drew wider into a grin. me gustan las sorpresas.

he lifted his chin, mulling his next response. so, miss, coatl continued, slipping into the tongue he'd found more common as he'd traveled this way. the second word escaped almost as a breath, a hiss. what can you tell me about this land?

He continues on with his toying antics, to which she ignores, but soon swaps to a tongue she is more accustomed to.

What is there to tell? It is a land of sandy dunes, and is barren of most travelers. Such was not her territory, thus, what more should she be obliged to share?

his brows knitted together slightly as she spoke. either you're hiding something, he remarked, or this place is incredibly boring. and i promise you—nothing is as boring as the lands i traveled through to get here.

barren dull desert, though eventually overrun by the floods. dunes these might be, but no doubt there must be something else to savor. there always was, even in the midst of hell.

even the sonora boasted vibrant saguaro.

so i assume you are holding out on me, coatl continued with a shrug. do you dwell here? are there families—packs?

Gaze clouding, the she-coyote huffed soundly, now greatly annoyed. I am just as new to this territory as you. I live elsewhere... the oasis. Typically, she wouldn't so openly share her place of residence, but she knew all to well that he would ask anyway if she held out. 

There are likely packs elsewhere, but I know nothing of them. Now that really was all she knew.

his lips pursed thoughtfully, head tilting just a bit. and could you point your head toward. . .this oasis? he asked. or is it a secret?

he believed her otherwise, though. at least enough to let the subject be.

but he was curious to the existence of somewhere with shade and water.

he could use that.

He wanted entrance to the oasis. But she was not willing to give this so easily.

It is not a place of secrecy, but one well guarded nonetheless. We are gatherers of treasures. None shall pass between our land without first paying a price that we find fit. That I find fit. She corrected herself at the end, as Tumbleweed had dubbed her the gatekeeper.