Iktome Plains but she was right, sera

The keen-eyed corvid spotted the approaching coyote long before Zero did. From high above, it loosed a caw and began winging south, leaving her with the brief impression she had scared it away with her evil eye. Her lips quirked into a smirk at the thought.

She plucked another bone from the halved mouse and was crunching it down to the marrow when a familiar voice brought her ears swiveling up to attention. There was that brief moment of astonishment that coyotes were accustomed to, the suspended moment between holding their ground and taking flight when another predator showed themselves, but Zero relaxed the impulse. There was no reason to run from this one.

Son of a bitch, she thought, you're still kicking.

Number One, she identified, having granted him the number some time ago. There was surely a Number One already named in her organization who might take exception to her use of their code for another, but Zero had not met another coyote quite like this man. His manner was peculiar, to say the least. Where most coyotes sought only to save their skins, this one sought out trouble, and yet seemed always to escape its grasping fingers.

There was little left of the mouse to offer him, but Zero snipped free a clawed foot and flicked it in his direction, ensuring the toes landed pointing in the direction of the slough she had left behind. The double meaning of it — danger this way lies — would not be lost on him.