Chapter 1 - Kek
It was one of those dusty evenings, in The Tavern, where ycan see the dust particles dancing around in the air. Drifting to the rough, wooden floor, coated in gouges that hold the memory of past brawls. I take a sip of the stale juice. I don’t drink, even at a tavern where all they have is old juice. It tastes like wrinkled peaches. They don’t actually taste all that bad. I haul myself up, grabbing my dagger. I’ve lost too many tools to idiot men who take whatever they can find left on these tables, even if only for a moment.
I walk as quietly as I towards the bookshelf. I browse through the titles, as I usually do, my gaze lingering on the book sporting the title ‘Coyotes Refuge’. The book is the story of a man who had been stuck in his coyote for years, before waking up with limited memory of being the beast, and no memory at all of being a man. He soon commits suicide after realizing the world around him, and the trauma he must’ve endured. I’ve gathered said information from the blurb and people who have read it. It unclear as to whether it was a real event or just fictional,
“Still going to refuse to get it.” The Tavern owner, Michell, states teasingly. A wry smile tugs at my lips.
“Nope.” I chuckle. I always looked at the novel. As one with the coyote, It intrigues me, but I refuse to spend my Awon on a book I would probably lose before I could finish it.
“Kek! I- I’m here!”
I turn around at the yell. I grin softly. Inside, I can feel the coyotes' excitement . I push it aside.
Later. I promise to my constant companion.
“Shailee!” I cry out, my best friend running up to me. We squeeze each other into a long hug. I pat her head. We, as coyotes, are both the touchy-feely kind of people. A huge grin breaks out on her face.
“It’s so good to see you alp- Keeks!” I beam as she trips over her words. She often gets too excited to say something, then trips over all of her words.
“You too, Shay.” I mumble.
“This place is a dump.” She mutters, glaring disapprovingly at the space. A sudden overwhelming desire to hit her for offending ‘my space’ washes over me. I clasp my hands tightly behind my back as the urge to discipline her hits me. I work the intrusive thought off with a sigh.
“It’s actually quite nice, in my opinion.” I murmur.
“Oh.” her voice is flat. “Anyways, let's go home!” She whisper-yells, her eyes widening in excitement. I snicker. She lets out an offended gasp, and we begin to run to our dwelling, the packed sand spraying out like waves from the worn paths. On a quick turn, I almost slip.
“Desert Mutts are quite agile, perfect acrobats amongst the sand.” Shailee announces in her best reporter voice. I laugh, tripping over my feet, and slipping, only just managing to stop my face from hitting the sand. Shailee begins to wheeze, collapsing to the gritty sands. We sit there, Bellowing with laughter until our stomachs ache. I get up, still chucklinb, brushing the clinging grains off my clothing. I proceed to bop her head, then run. I hear her racing behind me as we carve our own path through the open desert.
