Hushed Willows there's a syncopated beat

As ever, the coywolf moved through the territory as if he were up to something, an all-over slinking expression not just on his narrow face, but in the rangy lines of his body as well. He might've been called sneaky — except that the game hen he carried in his snipey jaws was still squawking, one wing free and beating against his nose.

If this bothered him, he didn't show it. He seemed not to notice the ruckus at all, and he carried on at a steady clip in the direct of Reverie's den.

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