Mount Apikuni silence is the language of gods

Set for yesterday morning, at the base of the mountain.

There is no concept of time in that moment. The world shakes around her, she bounces, and cries, occasionally rattled a few times to shut her up where she temporarily cries louder until she’s too tired. Her eyelids are heavy and her crying becomes hoarse, but when they finally stop running, she slowly opens her gaze to find the warm sun beating down on her already hot frame.  The coyote places her on the ground and noses her a few times, breathing in her scent—perhaps the reason she’d not been eaten yet, the feverish smell she gives off—and pushes her around until she cries again.

Weakened and quiet, Sao closes her eyes and tucks into herself. If she goes to sleep, maybe the rolling around will stop and she can rest. Maybe she could eat soon, though she’s far too exhausted to move more than a few inches to find the source, but if she could sleep a little longer, the pull her mind has on her body, she will feel a little better. The coyote, however, concerned about the smell and hesitant to devour his meal, remains protective of his catch a little while longer if only to figure out the extent of sickness.