(no subject)
Leaving Sedona isn't an easy decision for her to make, which tells her that it was the right choice. Coyote cannot afford to be so attached to one place, when she may be discovered or driven out of it at any time.
Her cover and protections held for a long time, but too many people know how to find her here, friends and enemies both. It's time to go.
The arrangements mostly make themselves, as things tend to do around a Trickster. The art gallery is sad to see her go. They are however, very happy to clear the house of her work. Mrs. Park claims she will be missed, and offers her some dasik to go with her tea. No one gets a phone number or forwarding address.
The cat refuses to be relocated to another home in Sedona, in the sneaky way that cats have. "You would probably be much happier if you stayed," Coyote tells the cat, who ignores her.
She sets off across the state with minimal encumbrance, but no real destination.
And something is following her.
Coyote stops somewhere West of Phoenix for the night. She starts awake several times, expecting to see eyes shining in the dark. It isn't until the next night that she finally sees just that. It is a hound, one almost identical to those her bait team fought in Las Vegas. Has it followed her all the way here?
"Either fight or go away," she snarls at it. It stays where it is, out of reach and almost out of sight.
And no matter how far she goes, it's there again at night.
Coyote is only miles away from her final destination (chosen at last) when her patience snaps. She stands up from the fireside and calls out into the dark. "What do you want? Go away or COME HERE!"
Surprise is a mild term for what Coyote feels when the dog comes out of the shadows and approaches, sniffing at the rabbit she has roasting on a spit. It's one of the hounds all right, black and hairless, ears perked as it stares at her.
"You must be joking."
It whines pitifully.
Maybe that piece of power she stole from Xolotl had more consequences than she originally suspected.
Coyote collects her cat from a trucker in Bisbee, who is slightly confused as to why he agreed to transport a pet carrier, but amicable. There's an empty building suitable to her needs, close to the historic downtown district, with a straight shot to the nearby mountains.
She is carefully painting 'C. Lantrans' on the mailbox one evening, when the dog shows up again. There is a stare-down.
Coyote sighs. It is a long suffering sort of noise. "All right. You may as well come in."
He wags his tail.
Her cover and protections held for a long time, but too many people know how to find her here, friends and enemies both. It's time to go.
The arrangements mostly make themselves, as things tend to do around a Trickster. The art gallery is sad to see her go. They are however, very happy to clear the house of her work. Mrs. Park claims she will be missed, and offers her some dasik to go with her tea. No one gets a phone number or forwarding address.
The cat refuses to be relocated to another home in Sedona, in the sneaky way that cats have. "You would probably be much happier if you stayed," Coyote tells the cat, who ignores her.
She sets off across the state with minimal encumbrance, but no real destination.
And something is following her.
Coyote stops somewhere West of Phoenix for the night. She starts awake several times, expecting to see eyes shining in the dark. It isn't until the next night that she finally sees just that. It is a hound, one almost identical to those her bait team fought in Las Vegas. Has it followed her all the way here?
"Either fight or go away," she snarls at it. It stays where it is, out of reach and almost out of sight.
And no matter how far she goes, it's there again at night.
Coyote is only miles away from her final destination (chosen at last) when her patience snaps. She stands up from the fireside and calls out into the dark. "What do you want? Go away or COME HERE!"
Surprise is a mild term for what Coyote feels when the dog comes out of the shadows and approaches, sniffing at the rabbit she has roasting on a spit. It's one of the hounds all right, black and hairless, ears perked as it stares at her.
"You must be joking."
It whines pitifully.
Maybe that piece of power she stole from Xolotl had more consequences than she originally suspected.
Coyote collects her cat from a trucker in Bisbee, who is slightly confused as to why he agreed to transport a pet carrier, but amicable. There's an empty building suitable to her needs, close to the historic downtown district, with a straight shot to the nearby mountains.
She is carefully painting 'C. Lantrans' on the mailbox one evening, when the dog shows up again. There is a stare-down.
Coyote sighs. It is a long suffering sort of noise. "All right. You may as well come in."
He wags his tail.