Dahozhoni Meadow Eagles and butterflies.

The coyote didn’t turn, so Towhee fell back with a huff. Her eyes stayed on its back, catching the moment when the smaller canine eventually paused after all. She squinted when it—he, she guessed—opened his mouth to say something. Of course Towhee couldn’t hear it, nor could she lipread from this distance.

But there was something masculine about the figure, she decided, and was he missing an eye? This couldn’t be S’ari then, though perhaps he knew the name. The way he moved his tail seemed to indicate something—perhaps that she should follow—so Towhee began slowly walking toward him.