Verdigris Ravine (M) And wrens have begun to sing an old song in the mouth of your kettle.

Towhee begged for water and S’ari delivered.

Not— she panted, her voice drying up in her throat.

The more hostile coyote departed. Towhee hadn’t caught a word of the exchange, though he couldn’t imagine he was just leaving the two women here to deal with their fates. Her wide, scratchy eyes looked uncertainly at S’ari.

I think, she winced through a much less sharp spasm, I’m done shitting out ghouls. Where did your friend go?

When the grumpy, one-eyed man returned with bulging cheeks, Towhee didn’t think about what it would be like to French kiss a coyote. She gratefully accepted the sips of water taken directly from his maw as if she was a baby bird. She didn’t care at all that much of it splashed on her chin and chest.

Can I come into the ravine for more water? she asked, wiping droplets from her chin. I want to wash up. Then I can help, if you need it, Towhee offered to S’ari, who would deliver in a very different sense of the word soon.

Her nose wrinkled. That stench still clung to her, to this whole stretch of sand. Towhee jolted slightly as she realized this might mean there was an infection. Perhaps the coyotes would have something she could take for that, as much as she hated to impose. Perhaps she could repay them by playing midwife.