Otter Creek not a long time ago,

The beast snorted, winnied, and squealed as it’s single lobed, sharp hooves kicked up clodes of prarie loam. Moon Runner had never seen a grass walker quite like this one. It had the magnifigence of a bison with the agility of an elk, but possesed four times the fight of either creature.

When it backed away, so did Moon Runner. She did not wish redirect the mare’s ire upon herself and become trampeled.

Yet, it settled. Its pointed ears turned and Moon Runner sensed its curious nature….

But the coyote’s harrassment began once again. Yodels echoed from tufts of moving high grass.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, thought the spirit.

Moon Runner licked her jowels, eyes locked in the direction of the coyotes. She began to stalk them…

Hungry, the spirit said.

If only they could be corralled in her direction, then a successful kill would be all but certain.