Dawn and Tobin crept across a meadow, making sure to stay low in the tall grass. As they approached the side of a small hill, Dawn slowed. There before them was a deep, dark hole nestled between large slabs of gray rock. The coyote den.
Dawn lifted a paw but then paused.
“Are you okay?” asked Tobin.
The fox drew in a long breath. “Yes,” she said. “I’m all right.”
Tobin nodded, but something in the tone of Dawn’s voice made him think there was more she was not saying.
“Let’s move on.” Dawn lengthened her neck, placed her paw on the ground, and proceeded to the den’s mouth. Lingering at the threshold, she and the pangolin peered into the dark.
“Look,” said Tobin. Although his eyesight was poor, he had spotted strange markings on the dirt-covered walls.
The fox crawled deeper into the cave and examined the drawings. Though at a distance they seemed to be nothing more than muddy paw prints, upon closer inspection the smudges and smears proved to represent various animals—including raccoons, kiwis, and a wombat.
“Hieroglyphics,” Dawn murmured.
“Oh goodness, oh goodness!” sputtered the pangolin, nervously backing away. “Some of these animals are the ones who are missing!”
“Tobin,” warned Dawn, “do not jump to conclusions.” Tobin gulped. His friend was acting strangely defensive.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “But I’m not sure this is safe.” Tobin’s voice was shaking now, and his scales trembled with fear.
“The pangolin is right.” A deep voice echoed through the den. “It is not safe for you here.”
At once, Dawn jumped with alarm, and Tobin’s eyes bulged wide. Together, they turned around. A giant, pale gray coyote was standing at the mouth of the den. With his long legs and broad chest, he appeared twice the size of the two others combined.
Tobin’s heart lurched and his breath caught in his throat. He furled his scales for protection and tried to steady himself. His feet felt as if they belonged to someone else.
Dawn, however, did not seem scared at all. Her back fell from its arch, her muscles relaxed, and her face grew soft.
Tobin gaped at his friend. With a giant coyote staring them down, Dawn somehow grew calmer, more relaxed.
“Yes,” said the fox, her voice even and strong. “We know it’s not safe. What we don’t know is why.”
The coyote stared at the fox. “It’s been a long time,” he said.
“It has,” replied Dawn. Her whiskers twitched.
For a moment, the two canines stood still, eyes locked. The coyote’s coarse hair billowed in the cool evening breeze. Dawn’s tail flicked from left to right. Although they were silent, the air between them seemed full of unspoken words.
The pangolin bowed his head. His heart continued to race, but he knew there was nothing to fear.
A chorus of low howls rang in the distance, shattering the stillness of the moment. The coyote turned his broad head toward the sound.
“You must go,” he declared. “The pack is returning. You cannot be here when they arrive.”
“But these images—” Dawn started.
“Not now,” said the coyote, cutting her off. He paused. “Meet me at sunrise, at the glen to the north. Just beyond the dragon trees.” The canine glanced at Tobin and then returned his gaze to the fox. “Come alone,” he instructed.
And with that, the majestic coyote descended deeper into his den.
Dawn watched his silhouette melt into the darkness. But then, at the sound of the approaching pack, she turned and motioned for Tobin to follow. Hastily, the two animals moved through the night, retracing their path through the meadow and the tall grass. Once they were a safe distance away, they slowed and walked side by side.
Although Tobin had many questions, he remained quiet and waited for his friend to speak.
“That was Ciro,” Dawn said at last. “He is the leader of the coyotes in the eastern regions.”
Tobin waited for more.
“He will have information about the nappings. I will meet him at sunrise, as he requested.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, as though she spoke to herself. Her eyes flashed in the light of the moon. “This time, I must go alone.”