All seemed to be calm within the Rye once more now that a small break from the heat was given to the inhabitants of the lore. The 'yotes, though, not so much. Still their disgusting odor stung her nose with every breath she dared take, but unfortunately there was nothing she alone, nor the others, could do about the surge in coyote numbers and their increased hostility. Treks beyond their boarders were limited as a precaution, but that only helped the problem to some degree. The wolves of the Rye still needed food and food didn't waltz right up to their front door with a ribbon tied to its neck while holding a note that read 'eat me' or anything like that. If only they were that lucky.
Warm amber irises scoured the sea of golden rye from atop the outpost, speckled haunches lowering themselves to take up a more comfortable seated position while she watched a small cluster of caribou lazily cross the tundra below. The thought of following them to track their migratory pattern for the summer briefly crossed her mind until motion behind the small meandering herd caught her eye. Surprise, surprise a small band of 'yotes were tailing the caribou and internally Sphinx groaned before rising to descend from the tall hill. So much for that idea.
Maybe a quick boarder patrol would suffice instead.