Sly Fox Sand Dunes why does thou sit upon my grave

the sand was hot like his blood.

it was much like home, and he childishly slid down one dune on his side, relishing the warmth despite its scalding temperature. nothing here could compare to where he'd come from. he was impenetrable.

coatl rose and shook the grains from his pelt, and was preparing to wallow some more when his mint-green gaze caught sight of a shadowy form wandering the sandy hills.

que pasa, mamacita? he called out, once that form had taken more specific identity as a dark female of his own kind, perhaps a couple years older.

he'd never seen a coyotl of that color. 

strange. intriguing.

coatl trotted toward her, kicking up sand as he went.