The False Coyote carries a trespassing Redmond out of the woods.
The False Coyote: Don’t make that face… This isn’t the first time you’ve ridden me.
Redmond opens her mouth to retort.
Redmond: That’s not what–!
She holds her tongue before she can dig herself an early grave, and changes the subject, instead.
Redmond: I was going to ask, does the Reverend have a… nother shape? Like you?
The False Coyote thinks about that, letting out a low rumble in her throat.
The False Coyote: Mmm… No, Ms. Faraday, what you see now is true as day. But you must understand…
She has been many things, like how you were other things before you were you. A breath. A star. A river stone.
You would not recognize her if you saw her when the world was young.
Redmond leans in to ask.
Redmond: What was she like?
Suddenly, the False Coyote throws her head back and rears up. Redmond scrambles to hold on. There’s a wild, toothy grin on the Coyote’s face, as she bellows:
The False Coyote: Oh, we were something to behold!
She was mighty, then! Nothing like the pale creature you see now!
But just as quickly as she starts, the False Coyote stops. She holds the pose, but falls silent, where she stands. The grin fades.
The False Coyote: You should ask her, sometime. It’s rude of me to talk behind her back.
Redmond doesn’t push it.
The False Coyote: But you should know…
She does love you, loves humans and your kin.
The memory of the Reverend’s kindnesses comes back a little bitterly, a little sweetly to Redmond.
The False Coyote: That is why she fashions herself in your image. To be close to you… and to understand you.]
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