Eyeseffendee

19

We limped to the West, crossing the Fuego border. The cool morning mocked us with the promise of a terrible day.

My heart itched with frustration towards Rabbit. Why hadn't she joined us? We could have fought off the Fuego if there was one more coyote, even if she wasn't a great fighter. Now we were stuck.

I felt so shameful. We were defeated, the coyotes I had traveled across the desert to find were wounded, and we would be paraded through the Fuego camp as enemies. I was scared of what they would do to us . . . of what they would do to me. But if I had learned anything from the last two days, I knew that I shouldn't give up hope. Not yet.

The Fuego's territory felt dryer than the Piedra's. Even though it was relatively close to ours, they didn't have a river running through it. They would need to search for water elsewhere, and the prey would be scarce. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I was beginning to understand why they raided us so much.

"Hurry up! We've got things to do, and I don't want you to die before we get there." The dark gray coyote barked.

The other four laughed at his remark.

"But we're not worried about it once we get there!" One cackled.

I suppressed a growl. I wanted to rip their ears off and feed them to a wendigo.

In the distance, a great pack of coyotes was gathered under the shade of a tall rock formation. Groups of ten coyotes were leaving or coming back from the desert, dragging large pronghorns, big horned sheep or mouthfuls of rabbits. Where were they getting so much prey from?

In the shade, coyotes were either eating the large animals, fighting in pairs, or corralled in the corner, guarded heavily. This was definitely more than the Fuego and the Piedra. There must have been at least a dozen tribes worth of coyotes. I had never seen so many animals gathered together. It wasn't natural; the desert couldn't sustain that much life in one place.

"Keep moving!" The brown coyote barked at me, nipping my heels. I had slowed down as I watched the coyotes. I growled in reply, quickening my pace.

As we got closer, I noticed there were coyotes inside the air pockets. Their dark faces glared out over the desert, watching to make sure no one would escape. I doubted most of the coyotes were capable of escaping; despite all the food they were bringing in, the ones huddled together looked thin and lifeless.

"Watch your step, stay out of the elite's way! Don't speak to anyone! If the Shifter addresses you, respond promptly! Say your prayers now, they'll be the last ones you ever say." The dark gray coyote barked at us. Two of the other Fuegos cackled with glee, but the other two were quiet. They weren't as excited to see us tortured.

The camp was loud. It smelled like rotting meat, dirty bodies and sweat. As we walked under the shadow of the great tower, the sun hissed away, leaving us cold and alone. Yellow eyes glanced at us beneath tired brows, harsh ribs pointed at us under ragged fur, and sharp growls graced our ears. Fly-bitten sores adorned the faces and bodies of the hungry coyotes, but their rage-filled expressions bit harder at my soul than any flea.

What made the scene of angry disease worse were the healthy coyotes. A handful of the muscular, sleek-furred coyotes (who I assumed were the "elites") watched over and barked commands to the weaker ones, watching as they fought, ate, slept and coughed.

I had only been gone for a few days. How had it gotten this bad so quickly?

I felt a bump on my leg. A young pup, no older than a few months, quivered below me. Her startled eyes begged for help, but I couldn't do anything for her. A ragged female snatched her scruff and carried her to the large huddle of sleeping coyotes that were so still they could have been dead.