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The hearing ended shortly after my own testimony — a fact that, privately, made me want to preen right then and there. The judge’s words still hung in the air of the courtroom like dust motes after a strong wind, but I didn’t stick around.
As soon as it was final, I turned and ran back the way I’d come, sending more papers flying. City streets blurred under my feet as I zigzagged between cars until the packed asphalt melted into the worn, dusty road that led home. The desert welcomed me back with warm rock and hot sand.
I ran for hours. Circled the mesa where Coyote’s cave was nestled. Passed the tall saguaro that had, until recently, been my favorite perch for watching his schemes-in-progress. My legs carried me across the long stretch of empty highway until I found a shaded spot beside a rock outcrop, just low enough that I could squeeze under it for a nap. When I woke to empty silence, I ran again.
Then I heard it: the heavy thud of a closing car door, followed by claws dragging over gravel.
I moved out from the outcrop before the sounds had even faded. The road that led toward the cities was empty except for one car and the silhouette of something very familiar.
I stopped just a few tail-lengths away. The handle of the sign was in my beak before I could stop myself — You came back.
For a heartbeat neither of us moved. It was as if the world had stopped spinning on its axis and held its breath just for us. Then Coyote nodded, and the knot that had been sitting in my chest for weeks finally loosened.
I chirped once, bright and sharp, before darting forward to run a tight circle around him, close enough that my crest feathers brushed his fluffy shoulder. The touch was brief and accidental, but the texture of fur sent a shiver through me, my feathers ruffling. Before he could even try to grab me, I was racing down the road, deliberately slowing so he could follow if he wanted.
And he did.
For the first few miles it wasn’t hard to find a rhythm. The ground was still sun-baked and pleasantly warm, fine clouds of dust kicking up with every step. I glanced back every so often to see Coyote close behind, tail wagging as he kept pace. No rockets, nothing jet-powered, and certainly no ACME products.
It wasn’t long before we left the road. The mesa rose on our left, its striped layers practically glowing. I took a steep path that climbed the shoulder of the terrain and led to a dry wash on the other side. Coyote followed without hesitation; I could hear him behind me, rough-padded paws thudding against the packed earth.
The sky had been clear when the car first pulled up. By the time we reached the longer flat of the upper plateau, the light had shifted. A bank of cloud the shade of damp concrete blotted out the setting sun, and the air grew thick with the scent of ozone and wet dirt, carried on the wind from where the rain had already begun. I felt the first cold drop hit my head and slide down between my feathers. Then it started to pour.
Within seconds the ground turned slick and dark beneath us. My feathers plastered themselves to my body, the water tugging them down until they fit uncomfortably. I changed course and took off in a new direction, glancing back long enough to see Coyote still following, his fur already matted. Thunder rolled in the distance.
Lightning forked across the dark sky, bright enough to make me stumble and blink before I regained my footing, afterimages still pressing against my vision. Then came the thunder — much louder than before, close enough that I felt the vibrations in the ground.
The path to the cave was already mud; the red earth had turned to wet clay that dragged at my steps. I reached the entrance first and ducked inside, dutifully scraping my talons against the mat to clear off the muck. The sudden lack of water splashing my skin was a relief. I was not made for this kind of weather.
Mixed scents hit me as I stepped a little farther in, water still dripping off me — dry stone, old cloth, the faintest trace of herbs. Most of all, the cave smelled familiar.
Coyote trailed in after me, making a soft, frustrated grumble as he shook himself like a wet dog. He didn’t seem to mind that I was already inside.
A high ceiling stretched above us. I couldn’t help wondering whether that part was natural or one of his little expansions. He nudged past me and lit a few candles across the tables with steady paws. The warm glow pushed the shadows back, casting its own across the walls.
I shook off, fast and brief. Feathers flared outward and droplets flicked away, but I was still soaked through. All the motion really accomplished was sending a cascade of cold water down my back and side — the water that had been trapped in the plumage finally getting free. Coyote watched quietly, then held up one claw. He turned and rummaged through a cabinet. I peeked over his shoulder. His ear flicked as he turned around with a soft-looking towel in hand.
I stepped back a little, tilting my head. The worn rug under my feet helped against the cold stone as Coyote lifted the towel. He started at the top of my head with careful strokes that went with the grain of the feathers instead of against, the pressure just enough to sop up the water without pushing too hard against my skin. He worked methodically and without rush — down the length of my neck, lifting the feathers just enough for air to reach them for a moment. The sensation was new, but not unpleasant.
The towel moved over the curve of my back and I tucked my head down to make it easier. The contour feathers held more water, but he kept the same patience from the base of my neck to the start of my tail. A paw brushed my side and I unfolded my short wing for him; the same care was paid to the primaries. I lifted the other once he was done. A warm feeling pulled at my chest the way the towel tugged satisfyingly against the barbs of each feather.
Thunder cracked again, closer still. Coyote’s ears pinned flat and his paws stilled under my wing joint, but he shook his head and went back to the careful drying.
By the time he had gone over everything twice, most of the wetness was gone. Instead of being soaked to the bone, I only had to deal with slightly damp feathers. He set the towel aside and just looked at me for a minute.
With a quick chirp I did a slow lap around the main cave that blew out the candles, then went straight to the secondary chamber where a pile of soft things was tucked away. I settled into it, legs folding under me comfortably as I waited. In just a few minutes Coyote appeared in the entryway and gave me a look that clearly said, seriously?
I made the sound again and jerked my head toward the spot beside me, sitting expectantly. Thankfully I didn’t need to bring out a sign; he got the hint and collapsed onto the blankets.
Immediately I settled against him. His fur wasn’t wet anymore — he must have taken the time to dry off before coming to find me. I nudged my head against his cheek until he sighed and lifted his head enough for me to wedge mine under his chin. The fur was finer and softer there, and I could feel his easy pulse right under my cheek.
Outside, the rain continued to beat relentlessly against the rock. Every so often more thunder rolled, and each time Coyote flinched. It wasn’t dramatic, but the sharp tension in his body was easy to feel from this close. So I shifted closer until I was practically in his lap, putting all my weight against him. Slowly his breathing started to match mine instead of hitching with every growl of the sky.
As the storm began to ease, I scooted away just enough to preen the feathers I could reach — straightening the crooked ones with my beak until every barb was in place, smoothing the vanes over with my tongue, plucking a few broken and loose ones. Once the combination of exhaustion and the inability to reach some spots hit, Coyote took over easily.
Suddenly the same attention and claws I had watched put together hare-brained schemes were focused on me, feeling each feather carefully and going over any spot I had missed. For a brief second claws pricked at my flank when a heavy clap of thunder hit, but they were quickly drawn back.
As the feathers were worked over, my eyes began to droop. I tucked my head under his chin again and let the combination of rain noises and the feel of paws fixing each feather push me into sleep.