Wapun Meadow run run run

A coyote—young, by the looks of it—raced toward Tomahawk as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do. Was this supposed to be her friend or something? As far as she recalled, Hawk had never met a "Topaz," nor had she ever been on good terms with any coyotes. She gave the younger girl an odd stare, half-expecting her to be a vanishing hallucination.

When half a minute had passed and Topaz hadn't vanished, Hawk gave her a wary, uninviting, "Tomahawk." There was simply no way she could be keen on meeting coyotes. She would never, ever get used to it. They were so different from what she had grown up learning. Even their body language differed from her own. Tomahawk stood stick-legged, uneasy, and waiting.