The Tangle pray for the wicked on the weekend

As the night descended on him like a great vulture, Phoenix tried his best to outpace the growing shadows. This waste, flush with sharp rocks and potholes, wasn't an ideal place to lay his head. But his steady trot was not quick enough to free him of the obstacle-ridden territory before darkness would come to make an enemy of itself. His pace slowed dramatically in the lowlight, now having to be thrice as careful about where he placed his feet.

He was glad when the distracting sound of other pawsteps reached him, despite knowing somewhere in the back of his head that this was something to only slow him down more. The lone yearling stood still, with his eyes, nose, and ears angled expectantly  over his shoulder; waiting for the sound to become something tangible.

I wasn't sure if you meant her coyote pelt was keeping her warm or her own fur was, so I kept it vague for now :)