Coyote Skin

Coyote was walking along and found Puma practicing with her bow and arrows. “Hiya!” he said. “I’m bored. Wanna take a bet on whose Medicine is better?”

Puma’s ears twitched. A laugh rasped from her throat and she gave him a pat on the shoulder which left a bruise. “Silly little Long-Nose, you have no Medicine,” she said. “We can bet on how fast the grass will grow for how entertaining that would be.”

“I do too have Medicine!” he said, and stuck out his tongue at her. “What, are you afraid of losing?”

She flashed the white spots on the backs of her ears at him. “Do not try to make me laugh!” she said. “I cannot be distracted. Name your terms!”

“Oh, it is a very simple bet,” he said. “First we try your Medicine, and then we try mine. Whoever’s Medicine is more impressive wins.”

“Hah!” she said with a smirk. “You like betting too much, Long-Nose. There is no honor in it if you are no good at it.”

Puma’s greatest gift was Hunting Medicine. With her teaching Man, the first human, kept himself and his mate fed. They could claim no such help from Coyote. Lighting your farts on fire was not much of a survival skill.

Puma turned her bow to the sky and waited. Coyote looked on with a quizzical expression. She shot and the arrow disappeared into a cluster of tiny dots passing overhead. A small bird dropped at her feet, speared through the heart. She handed him the bow and gnawed the treat off its serving stick while she watched.

Coyote pointed the bow at the flock and squinted. He tried closing one eye, and then the other. He lay on his back and aimed, tongue clenched between his front teeth in concentration. He rose and walked in circles, eyes on the sky, until he tripped over a rock and almost broke the bow in his fall. Puma flattened her ears and twitched the tip of her tail.

With a shrug he pointed the bow straight up and let the arrow go. It climbed into the sky, flipped over, and followed its path like a salmon returning to ancestral spawning grounds. Coyote’s jaw dropped and he leapt aside with a startled yelp.

Puma laughed until her sides hurt. “Oh, Long-Nose,” she said, gasping. “You are such a bad hunter you could not even catch yourself!”

Coyote picked himself off the ground and kicked the upright arrow shaft. It snapped, bounced off a rock, and smacked him between the eyes. He brushed dust from his whiskers and acted as if nothing had happened. “You haven’t won yet Yellow-Claws,” he said. “Prepare to be impressed!”

“And how shall you achieve this victory?” she said.

He pointed to a patch of soft grass surrounded by bushes. “Follow me and I’ll show you,” he said.

A few hours later they lay on their backs, panting and watching the sun set. Puma gave Coyote a contemplative look, as if wrestling with a difficult decision. “All right, I am calling it a tie,” she said.

Coyote grinned. As far as he was concerned, he had won.

Several moons passed. Coyote walked along and did as he pleased. He thought of Puma from time to time, but did not seek her company again. The next time they met it was she who tracked him down.

As she approached he tilted his head in bemusement and said, “Creator’s gut, Yellow-Claws! If you are catching so much extra game why not share it with me instead of letting it ruin your figure?”

She cuffed him on the side of the head. “I am pregnant,” she said. “I have come to bring you home. No more wandering around. We need to raise this child in the village.”

Coyote gulped and said, “We?”

He could think of nothing more terrifying than being tied to one place and forced into the same routine everyone else imposed on themselves. And how could he raise a child? The other Animal Spirits hadn’t even let him touch Man or Woman until they were several years old!

Coyote ran away.

Their son was the first child born to the Animal Spirits or humans. Puma named him Wynono, and she adored him despite his appearance.

Wynono looked just like his father. Pointy coyote ears, long coyote nose, coyote everything. Puma’s swiveling ears could not help but focus in on every scrap of village gossip. Every time it threatened to overwhelm her, she puffed her whiskers out and forced herself to ignore it.

Wynono’s uncle Gray Fox loved him like a son. He and his wife Red Fox looked after him while his mother rested or went hunting. When the other Animal Spirits saw their kindness they felt ashamed, and offered to help Puma as well. Wynono grew up in the company of elders, cousins, and friends. Coyote never came to see him.

When he was old enough Puma took him on long hunting trips away from the village. The boy came to prefer the solitude, and his old playmates found him more distant with each passing year. He rarely spoke unless addressed.

One morning, while preparing for yet another excursion, he was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. He flattened his ears against his head and didn’t look up.

Puma smiled over his shoulder at the girl who had let herself in. “Done with chores so early, Awenita?” she said.

Awenita tilted her head, flicked one of her large ears, and flashed a mischievous grin. Though she had inherited the slender form of her mother, Deer, her boisterous attitude rivaled her father’s. Few enjoyed poking their noses into other people’s business more than Prairie Chicken. She poked Wynono a few more times. “If mother asks, tell her I did,” she said. “Wynono can talk and work at the same time, can’t he? Tell me a funny story before you leave, Wynono.”

Wynono pretended that his supplies were in desperate need of rearranging.

Puma clapped her paws together and smiled. “What a lovely idea!” she said. “Go on, Cubling.”

“I’m not funny and I don’t tell stories,” he said.

Awenita poked him again. “You have coyote skin,” she said. “That means you’re funny and or tell stories.”

Puma’s ears tilted back a fraction. She waved a paw at Awenita. “Off with you already, child, or your mother will hear about those ‘finished’ chores,” she said.

Awenita sprinted away.

Puma sat beside her son. “What is wrong, Cubling?” she said. “You used to love playing with your friends and making them laugh.”

If he had an answer, he kept it to himself.

Puma tapped a claw against her teeth and furrowed her brow. She stalked her mind for ideas.

When she captured one she leapt to her feet and put on her lecturing voice. “This moping is most unbecoming, Little Hunter,” she said. “It is time for a very special kind of hunt. I want you to track down the most annoying prey in the world and learn something from it.”

Wynono tilted his head. “You want me to hunt mosquitoes?” he said.

A smile tugged the corners of Puma’s mouth. “More annoying than that,” she said. “I want you to find your father.”

Wynono’s ears drooped. “What did I do wrong?” he said.

“Nothing, Cubling!” she said. “I have just decided that now is the perfect time for you to meet him. You don’t have to like him, but you do need to know who he is.”

“I’m fine with not knowing anything about him but the stories,” he said.

She ruffled the fur between his ears. “Tough toeclaws,” she said. “Now get going.”

Coyote often visited the village when his son was away on hunting trips. Wynono tracked him to a meadow and found him napping.  He was lying on his back with the sun toasting his belly and snoring.

Wynono had never seen anyone who looked so relaxed. He crept up to the oblivious figure and pounced, seizing his father in a chokehold. “I am not afraid of you, trickster!” he said.

Coyote woke with a shriek that hurt Wynono’s ears and struggled with impotent flailing limbs. “Gaaah don’t hurt me!” he said. “Whatever it is I didn’t do it!”

Wynono glared down at him. “You most certainly did, father,” he said.

Coyote’s struggling intensified. Wynono tightened his grip until he went limp, and then released him. He stepped back and waited, muscles tense and ears drawn back in apprehension.

Coyote wrapped one paw around his throat and seized Wynono’s wrist with the other. He yanked on the boy’s arm to pull himself to his feet. He took a few moments to process what he was seeing. It was like looking at a reflection in a lake, if lakes made your reflection shorter and have ears a size too big for your head. Coyote let go and waved his arms over his head. “What is wrong with you?” he said. “Or should I say what is wrong with your mother, teaching you to treat your dear old dad like that?”

Wynono flattened his ears. “I had to show you what I am capable of,” he said. “You are dangerous and cannot be trusted.”

Coyote’s eyes bulged. “Me?” he said. “When did I ever hurt anyone? You’re the one who sneaks up on people in their sleep!”

Wynono narrowed his eyes. “Mother says your tongue drips snake venom,” he said. “Do your worst. You cannot trick me.”

Coyote frowned. “Good old Yellow-Claws,” he said. “Hey, if I’m so poisonous why is she letting you anywhere near me?”

Wynono scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure,” he said, “but I cannot go home until I learn something from you. She did not say what that needed to be.”

Coyote fell on his backside, slapped his paws over his eyes, and sobbed.

Wynono took a few steps back. He waited several uncomfortable minutes. Coyote cried until a thread of snot dangled from his nose. Wynono found a large leaf and offered it to him. “Please, you just need to teach me one thing and then we never have to see each other again,” he said. “The only thing I know now that I did not before is that you are weird and not very strong.”

Coyote bawled. He took the leaf and blew into it. “I’ve failed you!” he said. “I can’t do anything but fail you. I have nothing to teach you.”

“Please, you must,” Wynono said. “I cannot bear the thought of disappointing mother.”

Coyote sniffled and handed the leaf back. The look on his face was so pitiful that Wynono took it before he realized what he was doing. He stuck his tongue out and dropped it.

“But… I would teach you if I could,” Coyote said. “I’m as useful as a constipated skunk. Make up something to tell your mother and go home.”

Wynono set his jaw. “Please, just one simple thing, and I will leave,” he said.

Coyote bowed his head and sighed. “I do not do simple,” he said. “If you want me to teach you, you will have to be very patient and not ask any questions. Questions are annoying. I hate annoying stuff.”

Wynono helped him to his feet. “I know about patience,” he said. “I became an adult when I was seven years old and shot my first deer.”

Coyote grinned. The expression looked strange on his tear-dampened face. “Hah! That’s nothing,” he said. “I became an adult when I was seven days old!”

“You lie,” Wynono said. “Mother says when you were made you did not know how to hunt, and she helped you for a long time to learn it. You shot no deer.”

“I didn’t say it was a deer, now did I?” Coyote said.

“What was it, then?” Wynono said.

“Would you believe a rabbit?” Coyote said.

Wynono glared at him until he started fidgeting with impatience. “No,” he said.

Coyote smacked a paw across his eyes. “All right, all right, it was a grasshopper!” he said. “Sheesh! Can’t a good story just be a good story without worrying about what really happened?”

Wynono gave it some thought. “No,” he said.

Coyote slapped a paw over Wynono’s mouth. “No more words from you,” he said. “You make my head hurt. Now, if we want to do this the quickest way possible, here’s what we gotta do.”

He found a large stick and tossed it to Wynono. “Start collecting firewood,” he said. “Don’t stop until you can’t carry any more.”

“Why do I-” Wynono began, but Coyote stuffed another stick into his mouth before he could finish.

“Ah, much better,” Coyote said. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it. This spell needs to be finished before sunset.”

The stick hurt Wynono’s teeth. He considered throwing it at Coyote and going home, but an image of his mother’s scrutinizing gaze came to mind. He could never get away with lying to her even if he wanted to do such an improper thing. He filled his arms with sticks while Coyote returned to his nap.

Wynono poked him with his foot when he had enough. Coyote yawned and stretched. “All righty then, next step,” he said.

Coyote led the way down unfamiliar paths. They stopped near a cave opening on a bleak hillside and ducked behind the nearest plant cover. Nothing grew for some distance around the cave, and the rocky ground was decorated with painted bones. Two small birds perched in a cage made of vines, which was hung in the entrance.

Wynono gasped around his drool-soaked stick. He knew this place even if he had never seen it. They were at Wolf’s cave. Every child was told to stay away from Wolf, though the adults never said what would happen if they didn’t. Awenita speculated that he would eat them.

Coyote pointed to the birdcage. “That’s the target,” he said. “That’s what your spell needs. Wolf brought them from another part of the forest and locked them up so he could hear their song every morning without leaving home. Pretty messed up, huh?”

He slipped out of hiding and crept toward the cave. Wynono shook his head and gave a sharp whine. Coyote grinned over his shoulder. “No need to worry about me,” he said. “A brave warrior such as myself can always defeat his enemies!”

The birds fluttered against the cage walls and chirped in alarm as soon as Coyote reached them. He yanked the cage from its tether. A deep growl rose from the cave’s interior. Coyote took a few steps back.

Wolf emerged and narrowed his golden eyes at Coyote. He extended a massive paw. “Give it back, please,” he said.

Coyote took another step back, one arm cradling the cage and the other thrust at Wolf. “Warrior spirits, fill me with the strength to defeat my enemies!” he said.

Wolf rubbed a paw over his forehead, as if trying to massage a headache. He mumbled something that Wynono couldn’t quite make out. It sounded like he was saying, “One, two, three, four, five…”

Before Wynono could begin to guess why Wolf would chose a time like this to practice counting, Coyote shot past him. “Go go go!” he said. “I beat him, but he won’t stay down for long!”

Wynono followed, ears turned back to pick up any sounds of pursuit. None came.

Coyote stopped to lean against a tree and pant. He caught his breath, and then took apart the cage, both birds held with surprising gentleness in his mouth. He tied a string made of vines to each of their legs. Birds tethered, he grinned in a way that Wynono found more than a little disturbing. “To make the spell work you gotta carry everything,” he said. “Now hold still.”

He shot forward and clamped his jaws around one of the boy’s ears. Two fangs pierced the skin near the tip, leaving a large hole. He repeated the process with the other ear, and then tied a bird tether through each hole. The bird’s panicky flight tugged at the fresh wounds. Tears of pain welled in Wynono’s eyes and he squeezed them tight to clear them. Coyote motioned for him to follow, and he did.

“Hurry!” Coyote said. “You need to get to the village before sunset! I know a shortcut over the river.”

Wynono knew plenty of ways across the river, and this was not one of them. The fallen tree was so thin and wobbly that even Puma would have a hard time finding her balance on it. Coyote went first, arms held out and waving as if he were trying to learn to fly.

Wynono stepped onto the tree. He eased his mind into a calm state. There were no splinters in his gums, no tired muscles in his arms, no tugging at his ears. There were only his feet, the tree, and the river.

He made it halfway across with no difficulty at his easy pace, and then Coyote yelped and fell into the river. He flailed and screamed with such terror that Wynono felt a jolt run through his heart. He realized he didn’t know whether or not his father could swim. He flung the sticks aside and dove after him.

Wynono dug his teeth into Coyote’s scruff and dragged him ashore. He was extremely relieved that Coyote was able to recover after a few coughs and did not require mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Coyote buried his face in his paws. “I failed you again!” he said. “You must hate me!”

Wynono gave it some thought. Before they met, he might have agreed. Now he just felt tired, confused, and a little depressed. He helped his father to his feet. “I don’t hate you,” he said. “Mother doesn’t either, in case you were thinking of coming back with me. I think maybe she might like that.”

Coyote’s ears tilted back and his eyes widened. “Really?” he said.

He seemed to change while speaking that one word, to become younger somehow. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and his voice resumed its usual tone. “Time’s almost up,” he said. “You hurry on to the village. I’ll go get your sticks.”

He leapt to his feet and bounded along the riverbank, stooping to gather sticks that had drifted ashore.

Wynono ran into the village under a sky that was growing redder every minute. He stopped outside his home. Several people were out attending to evening chores, but he didn’t see his mother. Some of them paused and gave him odd looks before going on their way. He leaned against the wall, panting, and waited.

“Why are there birds tied to your ears?” a voice asked at his shoulder.

Wynono jumped.

Awenita gave a delighted laugh. After so many years of trying, she had finally succeeded at sneaking up on him.

Wynono’s jaw dropped. He rolled his eyes up, feeling as if the rest of himself had frozen. The birds had twisted the tethers, and they beat their wings against each other in a desperate bid for flying room.

Awenita turned her gaze from the sight and smiled at someone else. “Good evening, Aunt Red Fox!” she said.

Wynono’s tail crept between his legs. He rolled his eyes down and met Red Fox’s incredulous gaze. Her mouth was open, but if she had planned to say anything she chose instead to snap it shut, shake her head, and walk away.

“So,” Awenita said, “why are there birds tied to your ears?”

Wynono tried to organize his thoughts, but it made him feel even more tired. An idea drifted through the haze and he snatched at it. “It was a rescue mission,” he said. “You see, Wolf had these poor birds trapped in a cage in his cave. In the very back of his cave. I heard them singing and I decided to save them. I got the cage, and, uh, he started chasing me. I didn’t want to let them go so close to the cave, so I hid and tied them to my ears. And then Wolf jumped out at me, and I beat him up for hurting those little birds. That is what happened. And, I brought them here because I thought you would enjoy being the one to set them free.”

Awenita smiled. “How noble of you,” she said.

She pulled the vines down and untied the bird’s legs. They flew over the village, side by side.

An eerie noise drifted to them on wind blowing in over the river. The high pitched ghost of a laugh, or a howl, or perhaps a mixture of the two.

Awenita shivered, but the smile never left her face. “That sound again,” she said. “I’ve heard it before, on the morning mother woke up and found all those gross drawings scribbled on her new dress.”

She grabbed his wrist and tugged. “Come on,” she said. “You’ve got to share your story with everyone. They’ll love it.”

She dragged him to her home, where they found Puma visiting with Deer and Prairie Chicken. Wynono recounted his adventure for them, adding a little here and there to draw it out. Prairie Chicken roared with laughter at all the best parts, and Puma smiled as if he had just mastered a difficult hunting technique.

A few years later, when he asked Awenita to marry him, Wynono presented her with a crude wood carving of a pair of birds in flight.