Rosewater Oasis A white stag pulls up a stool and bellows hymns to enchantments.

She didn’t look like any coyote she’d ever seen, though she resembled a wolf even less. Towhee tilted her head and studied the small, swarthy figure, belatedly realizing she looked a little round in the middle. That made her think of S’ari.

If the one-eyed coyote had been brief, this one was monosyllabic. Towhee missed the first word she spoke—a name, perhaps—but easily caught the others: “Tribe. Hunt.” There were so many possible interpretations, though she went with the most likely one.

I know S’ari. You might even say we’re friends. How are she and the pups doing? I hear she had three.