Sunset Valley You must push the world harder than it pushes back.

Your sister’s a big girl, She can make it her own, Father had said, but Weetzie wasn’t so sure. Witchbaby was his littermate, the same age as him, but he often saw her as frivolous and irresponsible, and he feared that her overly social nature would get her into trouble. Moreover, Mother would not be consoled. He could see the worry in his mother’s face, and that was one of the few things that could stir his heart. He left home to follow after his sister, promising Mother that he would find Witchbaby and look out for her to the best of his ability. He knew when he left that he would probably never be able to return to his parents.

Finding his sister was proving to be more of a challenge than he had anticipated. For some distance, he noticed that Witch’s scent trail overlapped with that of Kinkajuu, which explained why Witch had run off. By now, he understood that his sister was in love with Kinkajuu, but romantic love was a concept he had long since given up trying to comprehend.

He was feeling more anxious and frustrated than usual because he had not caught scent of either his sister or their friend for several days, and the sky was threatening more rain which would once again wash their scents away, assuming they had ever even been in the area.

The small, gray coywolf gazed through the drizzle out into the valley and spotted a patch of red. He perked his ears and raised his head, then squinted to get a better look at the red patch. It was definitely canine. Could he really be so lucky? Could it be his sister? He broke out into a run, making no effort to mask his approach, his tail uncharacteristically wagging behind him. “Hey Witch! Wait up!” he called out.

Immediately after he called, he realized he had made a mistake. The wolf was definitely not his sister. Her coat was much smoother than his sister’s and was a patchwork of different colors rather than solid red. Even worse, he had made his presence known, and now he felt obliged to speak to the stranger. He stopped in his tracks. His tail drooped and his ears pulled back as he lowered his head. “My apologies, ma’am,” he said, his voice flat and even, showing no emotion in spite of his disappointment. “I did not intend to intrude. I mistook you for my sister.” He offered a friendly, albeit stiff and forced wag of his tail. He was ready to turn tail and run, but he thought that might be rude, so he stayed.