Hoshor Plains The Winds of Notos!

Really, Talis said a little faintly, faded eyes cutting side to side when Winston mentioned “the band.” I guess not, he could only agree, not at all sure what it referenced.

The deer moved some more, each flicker and twist causing Talisman’s body to instinctively stiffen. But as he stared at the beast looming over him, something dawned on him slowly. It became particularly clear when he noticed Winston’s waggling tail. The coyote focused on it for a beat before his polar gaze raised back to catch on Winston’s honey-brown eyes.

He was kind of adorable.

Oh, um, my name’s Talisman, the coyote suddenly remembered himself, flashing Winston an apologetic smile even as he finally began to ease into this conversation. You can call me Talis, though. Do you… He paused, turning over the question in his mind to make sure it wasn’t some kind of faux pas, not that he had a frame of reference here. Do you often talk to… predators?