Ankyra Sound five twenty six, nineteen ninety.

he picks at his teeth.
it's a quiet place, this forest
full of trees bigger than a whale's breast.
 he's left wondering
where did that girl go?

he rests his back against a bough
and looks up.
streaks of distant stars
stud a navy sky.

how many eyes look up at night
and see stars 
in their thousands
staring back at them?

Less concerned was he with where the girl had gone. He wondered after the male with his belly full of sour hare.

It was not hard to find him the forest. The coyote's sharp turquoise eyes were just as good as his nose for the task. Sorcerer found the wolf with his snout turned toward the night sky.

He looked too. Briefly, as if expecting to see an answer writ among the constellations. There was none of course, and his gaze turned back as he stole a little nearer. He watched again, alone with his suspicions.

For now, at least.

it's a small world,
until you're alone with your thoughts.
he sets his sights among the stars
and wonders if they lead
the same lonely lives
as the wolves that worship them
fizzling in and out of blackness
before collapsing in on themselves
or if they're lucky
smashed to bits
by an oblivion
too immense to name.

he's jolted from daydreaming
by coyote-scent.
his eyes barely adjusted
to the sequoia's darkness.
hey, little girl?
his voice intrudes
on the bare bone trees
and the impassive cold.
creepy girl, you there?

Not quite made yet, but the wolf had detected his presence.

She's not. He replied. Casually, calmly, and just as so revealing himself as he stepped out from brush and branches. Only I. Passing through. Who are you looking for? I might have seen them.

The coyote stood broadside to the other animal and with a raised paw, ready to 'carry on passing through' as he had claimed.

it's a lean thing
that parts from shadows
pelt the color of clay,
streaks of ochre.
copper and turquoise,
poised and ready to go.

that's a nice mix.

oh. no one.
i saw a girl earlier,
thought maybe she was still around.

but it's clear its just them
and the tall, tall trees.
he flicks an ear,
gives a thin smile,
and rests his paw upon his stomach.

The wolf gave no signs of aggression. He let his paw sink back down in the snow, but never did he drop his wariness. Only his gaze — momentarily, to observe how the other touched his stomach. He pointed his slender muzzle ahead then, as if deciding whether to stay or go.

I believe I heard you say it was a creepy girl. Sorcerer turned toward the wolf, and chanced drawing a bit closer. This one was only young he noted, but there was a sober and ruminative mien about him that seemed out of place for his age.

Should I be concerned? What made her so?

the coyote turns
his head 
all thin lines 
and jumbled angles.
that’s what this is,
isn’t it
a life of jumbled angles
pieces that just don’t fit right. 
i dunno
i guess she wasn’t that bad
fed me and told me where to go
could be worse.
he pats his stomach again 
could be worse.
there’s a pause
as he thinks
a night time silence 
wrapping itself around them. 
a groan of a tree,
the distant trill of a lark. 
say, what did you say your name was?

Yes. Could be worse.

The coyote tilted his head a little, considering the wolf before him. They were a thoughtful pair and the brief silence wasn't uncomfortable. What did this wolf think about, he wondered. Had he known a kind life or a cruel one? Was he going somewhere or simply anywhere?

He had questions, but so too did the wolf. At least one. Ah. Sorcerer's mouth curved with small smile. I didn't. I am Nahualli.

Who are you?

nahualii.
now that causes him to sit up straight
eyes narrowing
on the small and almost inconspicuous
beast.
old shadows, old spirits.
who sent you, he almost asks
curbing his alarm
as another jolt of discomfort
rifles around his belly.
maybe it was
just one of life's small ironies.
but really, how many wolves
south of the sierra madre oriental
would be here of their own accord?
if it was up to him
he'd be trawling on a bright bay
some five thousand miles
from here.
not in this cold sound,
by this hard tree.
the bark digs into his fur as he plays it casual.
no worries, friend.
he almost says amigo
to ease the tension.
until he remembers this man
very well may be his asesino.
make that two creepy creatures
in two hours.

the north man,
it's fucked up.
i'm cayetano.
who sent you?

Oh. Something was stirred in that wolf. Sorcerer did not miss how he straightened and how the moonlight glint in his eyes changed. The coyote's muscles tightened imperceptibly; a smaller dog's readiness always close to paw.

Friend. The poor fool. He was making all the wrong friends tonight.

The softening of the tension gave Sorcerer room. Room to wonder: did the wolf know the fossil tongue of the Coyotl?

Who sent you? The coyote delighted in the question but resented how little he knew of Cayetano and the situation. There was little for him to sink his teeth into, and so much more for his bite to miss. He weighed the poor odds against what he thought he might have to lose, and then took a seat.

I am afraid I am sworn to secrecy, he answered with a soft sigh, as if remorseful he could not provide his companion more information. Then he ventured, but tell me... who would you have liked? Would you send them a message?

sworn to secrecy
is like saying hey,
you don't have to leave
but you can't stay here.
it's a clever guy's way of saying
step off kid,
you've fucked up.

cayentano straightens his back and rises
his back's to the tree
and his mind already plotting three escapes.
this one might not kill him,
but he's said all the wrong things
cayetano's back is up more ways than one.

nah, that won't be necessary.
he's measuring the distance
from his fangs to this man's throat
counting seconds.
i'm gonna go.

if nothing else, he can run
run as he's done since acatenango
run like a blind dog chasing the sun
two steps and he's bolting,
listening for the tell-tale gallup
of sorcerer hot in pursuit.

And that was a miss.

Darn. Sorcerer watched him go. He could almost feel the air get towed in behind the fleeing wolf. What a shame. Cayetano had not been unpleasant company and after a long and uneventful time spent on the trail, he had been a welcome diversion from the daily business of staying alive.

Not about to chase after an agitated wolf no matter how curious he was about the animal, the coyote moved off in the direction his initial appearance had suggested he was heading.

But he wouldn't be going far.