Near the Sugar Shack, one of the older maples had fallen a couple of years ago leaving a large hole in the canopy. A new tree, spindly and delicate yet, was growing next to the slowly disintegrating remains of the elder tree. As Lucky carefully walked into the clear space the tree had left behind, there was a flash of black wings and a sharp cawing call. Intrepid’s body dropped to a crouch, making himself a little smaller. Lucky stepped between the sound and Intrepid.

“Here-here!” Cawed a croaking voice from the canopy on the other side of the clear space. “Here-here!”

They came from multiple directions all at once, fading out of the shadowy spaces under the trees and encircling the two dogs. It was like something broke in the stillness of the wood and suddenly there was noise. It was only then that Lucky noticed the absence. Intrepid was close, almost touching his left flank. Lucky could feel the other dog trembling even with the space between them.

Lucky kept his head up, ears forward, tail curled confidently over his back as his bright eyes scanned from one face to another. Coyotes. Their bushy black-tipped tail all hanging at half-mast, an entire pack of coyotes surrounded the two dogs. Easily a dozen adults of various ages. Their coats ranged from black to silver to brown with hints of red and each one of them looked bedraggled. Healing scrapes and cuts told the story of their recent past.

“Here-here!” Called the raven again as it glided out of the canopy to land on the head of one of the bigger coyotes.

“Hear you, I do, Peck.” The coyote spoke, her voice tense.

“Here-here!” The bird croaked.

“Away now, off you go.” Her yellow eyes met Lucky’s blue and there was an expression in hers he couldn’t quite read.

“Help-help.” Peck croaked, feathers fluffing out.

The coyote ignored him, focused on the big multicolored dog. The gray dog, almost as big, was cowering almost behind Lucky.

“Are leader, you?” The coyote closed a single step toward the dogs.

Lucky’s hackles were up, making him appear even larger in comparison to the coyotes. Small, none more than thirty pounds. They weren’t really a threat to him save their numbers. “I am, yes.” He answered cautiously.

The coyote’s body seemed to sag for a moment, tension leaving her. “Talk you, I must.” She spoke slowly, the relief in her voice as obvious as the bushy ears on her head. She spoke a dialect of the canine languages that he couldn’t quite understand clearly.

His brows furrowed as he tried to puzzle out her meaning. “Can you repeat that? A little more slowly?” He asked, trying to match his speech to hers.

Her ears twitched and her tail gave a single, narrow wag. “Oh, thank the Sky!” She barked in relief. “Your accent is terrible, but you speak the language quite well.”

“What were you speaking before?” He asked, still trying to figure out what was going on.

“The sky-voice called it pigeon avian, but I’ve always thought of it as the crow-speech. Didn’t your dam ever teach you such? It’s an important part of being canine.”

“I don’t remember my dam. I was very young when Girl took me home.”

“Dogs.” The coyote chuffed, though there was no derision in her tone, just humor.

“Can you repeat what you said before?”

“Oh, sure.” She stepped another pace closer to the dogs and that sharp scent of coyote reached Lucky’s nose. Her yellow eyes scanned the gathered group of coyotes and she stood taller, though still much shorter than Lucky. “We’ve come to throw ourselves at your mercy.”

The big dog was backfooted by that, even going so far as to take a half step backward, bumping solidly into Intrepid who yelped at the unexpected touch. “My mercy?”

“When the sky-voice first called to us, it warned us that something was coming. Something terrible.” Again she bravely stepped forward, closing most of the rest of the distance between them. “It was right. The next night after we had all hunted and were together again near the dennings, it came for us. There were so many hard-spiders that we couldn’t hold them off. We ran, abandoning our dennings. It chased us for a long while, a very long while. The ravens and crows are a great friend to coyotes. It was Peck that told us of your territory. He heard you speaking to the humans.”

Lucky’s ears twitched uncertainly, but his attention was focused wholly on the yellow-eyed coyote. “What did he hear?”

“That your Pack would protect the Flock, weak or strong against the terrible things that are coming.” Her eyes were burning into him. “Did you mean that?”

His brows drew together again. “Of course I did. We will protect our territory and keep our Flock safe, it is our duty.”

After a burningly intense moment of eye contact, the coyote looked away, her posture shrinking a little. “I cannot protect my pack.” The tension was back in her voice. “Not alone. We’re not enough alone. Will you take us into your Flock?”

Lucky’s mouth dropped open. An entire pack of coyotes?

“Many of us can help the Pack. We will be useful.” She promised, taking his silence as denial, her posture shrunk further, back softening into an upward bow as she ducked her head.

The big dog shook out his fur, gathering a handle on himself. “I’m sorry.” His voice was low and soothing. “It took me by surprise is all. Those skitterings, the metal-spiders you saw, are no easy thing to destroy.”

“So you’ve destroyed some of them? Peck told me you had, but you know birds.”

“Heard-heard!” Peck croaked, his tone admonishing.

“If you’re serious about joining us, there are rules.”

She tilted her head, “Rules?”

“No biting or hurting the people.” Lucky began. “They’ll get a rule about you too.”

“We can handle that, we’ll stay out of their way for the most part, none of us are fond of humans overmuch.”

“There’s a squirrel, Quick and a fox, Ro, and her kit at the Farm. They are also off limits.”

“Fair. Though that might be harder.”

“Able bodied adults are expected to assist in the defense of the territory. Whether you're officially a packmate or not. Even the people help when and where they can.”

“Understood.”

Lucky searched her body language for some sign of her veracity. It was hard to welcome coyotes into his community. His dam may not have taught him crow-speech, but he’d heard plenty of stories of the predations of coyotes. “The other coyotes want this too?”

“They do, yes.” Her posture had smoothed out, though her tail still stayed low.

“Come along then, we can talk about things as we finish our patrol.” Some of the coyotes melted back into the shadows of the maple wood.

“They’re going to get the pups and meet us along the patrol. I’ll leave marks for them.” The she-coyote fell into step with Lucky, her shorter legs working harder, but keeping pace with him. “I’m Clash.” She woofed. “What’s your name?”

“Lucky. And this is Intrepid. There are a lot of you.” He observed. “I’m surprised you want to join us.”

A wheezing pant-like chuckle escaped her. “Well, we’re fierce, but it’s strength we’re lacking. For raw power a good sized dog will do for us every time. Those hard-spiders were more than we could break ourselves, we lost a few defending our dennings before we ran. If I had to generalize about my pack, I’d say we’re cunning. That’s what we’ll bring to you. Sure you’ll have our numbers for patrols and such, but a clever coyote is quite good to have when the dust flies.”

“Cunning-Cunning!” Cawed the bird as it fluffed its black feathers again and then smoothed them. “Clash!” The bird flew a few circles around the canines and then winged his way away.

“He’ll be back.” Clash said. “Or a different one will.” She ran in silence for a moment before eyeing the dog and chuffing out a breath. “Listen, I know we aren’t the best loved canines. We’re not fierce and strong like a wolf or kind and loving like a dog. We’re seen as pests, scavengers, and tricksters.” She was quiet for a moment, paws pounding a staccato rhythm against the soft earth. “Maybe we are those things, but we’re other things too.”

The rest of the patrol went smoothly and Lucky asked most of the coyotes to wait for him in the wood just west of the dooryard. “Come with me, Clash. We’ll get you introduced to the people and let them know what’s going on.” The closer they got to the dooryard itself, the slower and more hesitant the coyote became. Surely she could smell the varied scents of human and hard work that washed over them on the wind. Her ears were down as they passed through the gate. Lucky trotted across the yard, head high, right for Girl. He’d start where he was most comfortable.

Girl’s leaf-colored eyes were wide and beneath the splattering of freckles over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, her skin had gone pale. “Luckster.” She began, stopping to lick her lips. “What’s going on?”

“Girl!” Lucky’s wagging tail showed his excitement as he danced from paw to paw, her fingers automatically scratched behind his ears in greeting. After a moment of scratching, he answered her question. “This is Clash. She’s the leader of a pack of coyotes.”

“I thought she was a coyote.” Girl’s fingers tensed in his fur, pulling a bit.

“It’s alright.” Lucky soothed gently, curling his body into her legs. “She’s a friend I think.” He turned his attention to the little coyote. “Clash, this is Girl. She’s mine.” He sniffed deeply a couple of times then rose up on his hind legs, settling one paw on Girl’s shoulder. “Quick?” His nose nudged the gray bundle on Girl’s shoulder. Girl wobbled a bit at the weight on her shoulder, but Lucky was careful.

“S’me.” The squirrel slurred, curling his tail tighter over his body. “Slepin’”

“It’s Quick. Smell?” Lucky asked the coyote. “No chasing, hunting, or hurting.”

The coyote lifted her narrow muzzle and sniffed deeply at the air. “I’ll mark ‘im.” She said.

Lucky dropped back to all fours, leaning into Girl again as she scratched under his collar.

“That looks nice,” Clash said after a long moment.

“She might pet you if I asked her.”

“No, no.” Clash’s yellow eyes blinked rapidly a few times as though she were trying to clean something off the surface of them. “We’ll stay away from them. Perhaps you’d let us take over the patrols?”

“That’d be great, but you should take dogs with you a few times until you know the routine.” Lucky sat back on his haunches, still leaning his shoulder against his girl. “I’m going to gather up Ro and the other dogs and I’ll meet you and yours back where we left ‘em . We’ll talk things over and figure out how everything is going to work.”

Man came up as the big multicolored dog rose to his feet to walk the little coyote to the edge of the dooryard and out the gate. “Who’s this?” His voice was curious, but contained not an ounce of suspicion or disdain.

“This is Clash. She leads a pack of coyotes that wants to join us.” Lucky answered. The coyote’s posture was rigid as her yellow eyes lifted to study Man.

“Clash?” He held out his hand, fingers curled and palm down, toward the little coyote. “You say they want to join us?” His face remained carefully neutral as he studied Clash. She slunk forward, body low, to lift her head and sniff at his hand. “Can we trust them?” He asked.

Lucky heaved a big sigh, chuffing his breath out his nose. “I’m not certain.” He admitted honestly. “I never knew a coyote before the grass-words. I’ve known they were around the Farm from time to time, but never met any. I don’t know if we can trust them.” He watched as the yellow-eyed coyote backed away from Man after catching his scent. “But I want to try.”

Lucky’s bright blue eyes scanned across the dooryard and all of the preparations the people were making. The Flock had finished the chain link fence around the dooryard, the last of the poles were setting in the concrete. The little community was working hard together, people caring for one another and building something together that would hopefully survive the End. Again Lucky heaved a sigh. “I want to, Man.” A soft grumble escaped him, “Callum, I mean. I want to trust them. I think-I think we need to. We have to. Whatever is out there, whatever sent the skitterings, that’s the enemy. Maybe coyotes were our enemies once, but I don’t truly think they ever were.”

Man’s strong fingered hand sought Lucky’s ears for a scratch. “I don’t think it’s about enemies, really.” He said. “I think it’s just the nature of life.”

“Yeah,” Girl put in, crouching down to hold her own hand out to the coyote. “It’s like that line in The Lion King.” She tried to put on a great, deep voice, but it came out sounding ridiculous. “It’s the great circle of life.”

“What?” Lucky asked.

“It’s something about how when we, like, die and stuff we become grass and antelope eat grass and lions eat antelope and, like, then they become grass. Or something.” Girl explained.

Clash’s yellow eyes went from one of them to the other, but the conversation was in a language she couldn’t understand. Instead, she went to sniff at the Girl’s proffered hand.

“I think I understand.” Lucky said, his tone thoughtful. “It’s not about outright hostility or enmity or anything. It’s about the natural order of things.” He sat back on his haunches, leaning into Man’s leg now as those strong fingers dug deeper into the fur behind his ear. The blue eyes were slits as he continued speaking. “I don’t hate cows. I wouldn’t hunt them for fun or anything, but I love hamburgers.”

“That’s a great point, Lucky. I think you’re right, I think we have to give the coyotes a chance. I’ll talk to the council about it this evening at the meeting. Maybe you could join us at around sunset?” Man said.

“Of course. I’ll get the coyotes settled before that.” Lucky said. His train of thought and the blissful scratches he was enjoying, were both broken by a delighted laugh from Girl.

Lucky’s eyes opened fully and he turned toward his Girl to find her kneeling in the dirt with both hands scratching gently at the little coyote’s ears as Clash’s head burrowed into her chest. The bushy black-tipped tail was wagging so fast it was a blur.