but the next night a coyote was heard
The deer had wandered off and in the remaining absence of… of, well, anything, Tucson felt… melancholy. That was the word his mother might have used, years ago when he was a boy. This storm’s got ya melancholy again, Tuck, what’sth’about? And he didn’t know what it meant back then.
If he were being honest, he still wasn’t certain.
Before he could linger too long on his ignorance. The grass nearby rustled, caught by a flick of his ear. Tucson turned his head just in time to see a simple, dark horse emerged. It was not often, in Novus or elsewhere, that Tucson had seen ordinary looking horses… and he immediately distrusted it. There was no magic in his homeland, no, but Novus was stock-full of it and he wondered if at any moment the other might catch on fire, or something equally bizarre. Stranger things had happened, after all.
Tucson laughed aloud at the question. “I reckon’… Oh, I reckon’ I learn'd by listinin’. I could teach’a, quick-as-a-whip.” His eyes were alight with mischief. Tucson enjoyed these sorts of questions—why else would he be so boisterous? Without hesitation, he repeated the same high-pitched coyote yip-and-howl combination. He waited for a few, hesitant beats… and once again, the other animal answered far across the prairie. “I’m from a’place where they’ll sing’ll nigh’.” The cowboy drawled, rolling one easy shoulder in a shrug. “I’m Tucson, stranger.” He supposed he ought to ask if the other man were a member of Dusk Court, but despite his soldierly duties, that didn’t seem to be the greatest concern.
And he decided the night wouldn’t be so bad, with some company.
