Heron Lake Plateau There were three ravens sat on a tree

When the dark coyote whirled around and spat hot, angry words at her, the memory of Viper's death came crashing in like a seven-point-five earthquake on the Richter scale. So much for stealth and so much for any confidence and calm Odessia had cultivated since she had first gotten lost in that flower. Much like that day, her body reacted in the same way. She flattened herself to the ground, ears swept back against her skull, and tail tucked as her bladder loosed what little remained in it. Much to her horror and embarrassment, it was enough to smell and wet her tail.
Was this going to take her voice away again? Her personality? Odessia longed for the comfort of getting lost in flowers once more.