Sun Mote Copse When I dream, I’m doing you all night

This jewel sidles from their cover and finally the reaper has a good look at them. A coyote. Sly tricksters they are, so much smaller than wolves and unable to rely much on strength. Still, he gives them an appreciative once over, practically making a show of his wandering eyes. 

Ruined? I would not call you that.

His maw tilts up into a smirk. “Oh yeah?” He practically purrs. “Then what would you call me, cariño?” The reaper inquires with that deeply accented and gravelly voice of his.