Redsand Canyon Runs on dreams and gasoline

He turned his ear to listen, then pressed forward, alarmed. Outnumbered? Are there that many, Mom? he asked, a not-so-faint note of panic suffusing his tone. He took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. Scrawny coyotes—they could take them.

Killdeer swiped his tongue over his jowls. I'm glad you're okay, he replied. I talked to the other wolf you fought them off with.

The pretty girl. His heart still raced slightly, thinking of her.