Naaghai Lowlands tibia

He took Zoug’s grunt, the jut of his chin, as approval. Talisman dipped his head and twitched the tip of his tail. He then turned to face the outskirts of the ravine, pale eyes scanning the dusty horizon.

He only planned to be gone briefly, just long enough to track down and kill something to feed his kin. He wanted to show Zoug he wasn’t totally hapless, that he could help provide for The Tribe.

Talisman followed the sun as it began to set in the sky. The wild, wild west, he mused as he trotted through the barren wilderness. Roaming stirred something in his blood, a sort of yearning. He ignored it, pausing to face backward and sending a yip to the purpling sky: a homing beacon.

The young coyote then faced forward, disappearing into the sunset like a shimmering mirage.