Verdigris Ravine if we lose our touch, it won’t mean much

Ephraim couldn't argue with that, though he was loathe to admit it and it showed in the slight scrunching of his muzzle right before his eyes. He did not want to entrust his life to a bunch of skittish sand-rats, even with the taotaomo'na at his back. Then again, Qiao was a coyote, and he had nothing but the utmost respect for her.

Wait and see, then. Resignation darkened his pale eyes as he swept them down to her conch shell.

No shortage of foxes in a place like this, he remarked, sweeping the canyon with a narrow expression. Accustomed as he was to coastal climes, Ephraim found it intolerably dry here in the desert, but knew it to be a haven for other species, including their tiny vulpine cousins. He grinned and stretched languidly onto his side, aiming a teasing paw toward the conch. He wouldn't dare touch it, and imagined she would admonish him for even hinting at it. Not hard to imagine being set upon by them in the night.