Iktome Plains but she was right, sera

The coyote did not respect what wolves thought to be theirs, but he was not so invested in the object of his curiosity as to tempt a pack's wrath. Furthermore, he had less need to when the coast was providing him so much fare. Dead cormorants and seals had supplemented what he pilfered from the lonely grotto while his own foraging yielded sweet snacks of molluscs and crustaceans.

Plenty of fare indeed but only for his stomach. Though he was reluctant to leave his haunt — all that accessible food and that one black wolf he still wondered after — Nahualli ventured south in a bid for another kind of satiety.

His gamble was not for nothing. Breaking from the shoreline to follow a familiar scent, he soon spotted an unmistakable silvery coat beneath the wing-shadows of a wheeling crow. Drawing closer, Sorcerer discerned that his old companion was distracted by that bird with its eye on her meal. He considered a more devious approach given the opportunity, but opted against it.

Nevermind the crow, he called out. How about a bite for an old friend?