Like a tumbleweed, Coyotl never stayed in one place for long. Sometimes she moved on a whim, other times out of necessity. The pack had been starting to catch on to her when it turned out her "sprained ankle" wasn't getting any better despite all the treatment, rest, and food they were throwing her way. The final straw had been one of the cubs mentioning offhand that she'd been seen sprinting down the hillside after a hare. Or perhaps the real last straw was her chomping the kid's ear off out of retaliation. Served the little snitch right and the brat was lucky she'd left the other one. Not Coyotl's best moment, perhaps, and fortunately for her escape her leg was just fine.
Coyotl's spry limbs loped a quick pace over the rolling hills, their red stone obscured by the accumulating snows. Flurries of flakes swirled before her eyes, a cold wind ruffling her scraggly brown coat about her shoulders. She didn't like being so exposed in the open, both to peering eyes and the inclement weather. As the day wore on the wind had picked up, buffeting her slight form as she rounded the rocky ridges of the Sierra Hills. Yellow eyes narrowed against the wind and white, she spied a jagged pile of rubble settled along the base of the next ridge. Seeming as good a place as any for shelter, she scurried down to the massive sienna slabs. She squeezed between the rough rockery, wincing as a few tufts of fur came loose.
Expecting a cave, Coyotl was slightly surprised by what she found on the other side. Like a bloodied river, red sand stretched forward between two cliff faces. The gorge was deep enough that only a few stray flakes found their way to the bottom, and the air was still and stale. She continued on, paws sinking into the sanguine sand with each step.