Hushed Willows Balenciaga shades so they never see him cry

The coywolf was, as usual, up to something.

He'd been hanging around the den more and more, these days. Not near enough to bother Reverie with his presence, but near enough (and making a point to rub his face against every tree and roll in every patch of grass) to make a point to Tybault. He'd been waiting for another visit, truth be told — but not like this.

He didn't know the scent on the wind that day, but he knew by the rise of his hackles that it was nothing good.

Dusty Rose set off at a wary pace to investigate, coming nearer to the den than he might normally have felt comfortable. He arrived at Reverie's bristling back to behold one of the largest creatures he'd ever seen. At any other time, he might have turned tail and run for it. It would be safest for himself and Reverie both. They could outrun a bear, easy. Tybault and the kid would run it off — annoy it enough that it got sick of sticking around. Everything would be fine.

Even the kids, he thought, would be fine.

But it was the thought of them that triggered the change. Of one little singer's face in particular. It didn't matter if it would all be okay because fuck you, that's why. This was his hill and these were his tiny things and this was his land because it was where he kept all his sticks and his bones, alright?

The truth was, this wouldn't have happened if he hadn't spent the last couple weeks spreading his scent over every available surface. But he had, and now the instinct to defend his territory could not be ignored.

"You stupid fucken — "

He berated himself even as he charged forward, inwardly begging himself to leave the lumbering menace alone. But red interrupted his thoughts right around when the guttural, cackling snarl took up residence in his throat. He kept even with Reverie, fur puffed up like a cat's tail to make them look as big as possible.