Redsand Canyon restless

He hadn't thought it possible to be happier than he had upon leaving Bearclaw's borders, but he was. That happiness had been more relief, a lightening of the weight upon his shoulders. This was pure joy, to have @Cortland as a traveling companion. The boy was kind and witty, and he knew the stories they could bounce back and forth, factual or not, were endless.

They had climbed the mountain and stopped to rest in a canyon; Phocion had seen it from a distance, when he'd first crossed this range, but hadn't decided to explore it further. The sun began to rise, and the white priest prepared himself for slumber, tucking into a nook in the ruddy walls. He had just began to drift off when the sound of pawsteps caught his ear.

Light, and feminine--and while Cortland was not the most masculine of wolves, these sounds were still too soft to be his new friend. His eyes opened in a shock of glacial blue, and he slipped warily from his sleeping place, bristling slightly as he sought the interloper. It had been a long time since he'd slept anywhere but Bearclaw Valley, and he felt slightly uneasy in the new territory.

There! A flash of dusky brown, and a slim she-wolf--no, he amended, it was a coyote; there was no mistaking that pointed nose and ears--appeared in view, looking curious. His nose wrinkled. He had no real distaste for the creatures, but they were coyotes, after all--lower on the social totem pole than wolves, according to his tribe. Thieving and dishonest, the legends said. (He'd never met one.)

Still, he figured he ought to make his presence known, and shot a neutral chuff in her direction, standing straight and looking her way.