Once upon a time, on a special day, a blazing yellow sun warmed the lush green and golden meadows in Ridgehaven. This, of course, meant a fresh day to explore. The tall brown grasses cloaked the curious coyote as he headed up a steady slope. Distant buzzings from the campers could be heard in several directions. With little effort, and without being spotted, the animal slipped under a lonely and quiet camper-trailer. Peeking out, he could see plenty of empty firepits and a few trailers without their owners. Some humans remained, lounging in their portable seats and enjoyed their day in nature.

Careful not to be seen, the coyote quickly trotted across a desolate campsite to more covering. His tongue and tail wagged as he wondered where next to explore. Sharp ears perked and rotated; he kept them trained for sounds of danger, and more importantly, sounds of storytelling. The camp smelled strongly of fires from the night before, but still held the scent of pines and woods. He prowled closer to trailers that were abandoned. There wasn't any trouble to get into, and so it seemed, the camp offered nothing to the lonesome critter. Disappointment slowly crept into the canine.

Boldness came with desperation, and the coyote walked more into the open road that connected the campsites together. It was quiet and dull. His nose dipped to the soil and began to explore around abandoned chairs and tables. Smells of food churned his belly, but he ignored that. He also ignored the fluttering wings that settled into a tree above him.

Fable remained engrossed in his snooping until a pinecone dropped onto his head. His entire body flinched as he looked up and spotted the raven with a shrewd grin. A more sincere smile graced the coyote’s. While still in a low, sly pose, the smokey tail wagged.

“Heya, Luster!” he whispered. “Going to help me?”

“I tried with the pinecone. Does something hitting your head give you any more sense?”

“Just of up and down.” Fable continued to snoop around, spurred on by the company.

“What exactly are you hunting for?”

“Something to learn about. I want to understand their stories better!”

“And how is it going so far, hmm?”

No response came, but for a stuck-out tongue. More fluttering came as Luster roosted on a table nearby. Fable hopped himself up on a nearby bench-seat. A floral cloth was laid down on top of the camp’s table. Luster had already started kicking her talons at a conjoined bundle of smooth leaves. Markings littered them, revealing images on each new leaf. The raven flipped them over, curiously. She smirked seeing the coyote’s expression of bewilderment.

“What is that?” he asked. The tail swished behind him in a steady swing. His gaze was transfixed on the pages and his ears perked to the sound of them ruffling.

“I hear humans call them magazines. They like to make them very colorful and show off things they’ve seen. I’m sure you’ve seen torn pages of these scattered in the wind. Do you want it?”

Fable shook his head, an ear pinned back. “No, I don’t like to take things. I just want to see. What are the colors like?”

“Well, look at the pages. All the yellows and blues. Sharp greens, delicate violets. A field of flowers would be jealous.” Luster noticed the second ear pinned back as Fable tilted his head, studying the page.

“Hey! Git away from there!” A towering silhouette jumped from behind the nearby trailer. It charged the two before either of them noticed it. Both animals scattered; Luster to the air and trees, Fable out to the fields. An empty can clanged against the ground, adjacent to the coyote’s paws. Angry shouts faded into the distance as Fable slowed and turned back. Luster appeared on top of his head and pecked at his ear.

“Some stealthy hunter you are!” she teased.

“Hey! You distracted me and made all that noise!” With a jolt to trip the raven, the coyote began to walk down an animal trail leading into a gully. The steep rocks on either side allowed him to slip out of view of any humans as he descended to a new area to explore. “Where shall we go now?”

“I've heard stories of coyotes leading themselves into their own troubles. They must be true!”

“You've heard stories? Tell me!”

“Perhaps another time. You wish to keep prowling?”

“We weren’t hurt! And you don’t have to follow, you know.”

“You need all the help you can get. I’m not letting you be turned into a pelt just yet!”

The gully was tucked between steep slopes. It flowed down, like the water that carved it, to the base of the hills where the two appeared. A flat meadow opened up with tall grasses and weeds. The field was clear of trees, granting views of tall, blue mountains in the hazy distance. At the end of the field, a tall wooden building sprouted up with high log fences.

Sounds and smells of the park’s stables made it across the meadow. Several horses stood or shuffled around in their stalls, oblivious to the blithe canine. Fable slinked around the back and towards the nearest of fences. It came out the side of the barn, so the coyote could slip a peek inside with caution.

“Do you know any of them?” asked Luster, eying the steeds with reservation.

“Nope! That makes it a great opportunity, right?” Before the avian could protest, the coyote let out a soft bark. The noise caused many of the horses to stir, some skittishly. They shuffled away from the predatory creature and whinnied.

“Quite, coyote! All of these horses are dull-eyed. I don’t think they can understand us.”

“You should go up and scout for any that can answer you!”

“No.”

Whimpers came from under the raven. “Why not? They could be really friendly! And give us some good stories!”

“No.” A sharp peck hit the coyote’s white ear.

“Hello?” A cheery voice bellowed from a pen, not too far from the two.

“Hello!” Fable trotted up and looked through the gap in the fence. A tall paint horse craned his neck down to greet them. He wore a friendly smile as the other horses steered clear.

“Awfully dangerous for ya two to be here, ain’t it?”

“Yes!” Luster gave another sharp peck to the coyote’s ear.

“We’re being safe,” he replied flinching, despite trying to ignore Luster. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Baum. You?”

“I’m Fable, and this is Luster.” The coyote wagged his tail and beamed a cheerful smile.

“Didn’t think there were any other critters out here like us.”

“‘Us?’” asked Luster.

“Mhm! There’s a couple of us horses here that are more ‘awake’ than others. They’re out on the trails, at the moment. I’ve got some company when they get back. Glad to know there are others out there, though!”

“There’s a whole forest of ferals. Though not many are interested enough-”

“Crazy enough!”

“- to explore human barns.”

“Fair enough. What brings you two here? Not after the livestock are you?”

Fable furrowed his brow and scowled. “Of course not! I’m here to learn more about humans. I like the stories they tell.”

“Really now? Well, I’m certain we can gather some stories for you, sometime. Though be careful ‘round here. The humans think something’s been sneaking in and snooping around the sheep ranch that rests against our national park. Don’t want them catching the wrong predator.”

The coyote snorted a bit, but cheered up quickly, curious what stories they could find. Off, across from the stables, a screen door slammed on a park office building. Nervous clicks from the raven beak accompanied the uneasy kneading Luster started on top of Fable’s head. The canine shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Calm down, Luster. No one’s seen us. Do you know anything about the prowler, Baum?”

“Nope. Ya hear noises all over the place. You get used to it. I figure it happens at night, or else it’d be caught.”

Fable nodded and drew his eyes up to the bird. “See? We’re fine, its bright and sunny out!”

“That doesn’t help any!”

Baum chuckled and watched through the fence. “So what kind of stories are you after? We hear some when they’re on the trails and set up camp. Ghost stories, I believe?”

“Ooh! I know a bit about ghosts! They’re spirits, right? Supposed to be scary for humans.”

“Yup. I haven’t paid them much attention, but I’ll keep an ear out for ya now.”

“Thanks! What else do you hear from humans?”

“Heheh, well, there are the old stories about animals and shamans and stuff. They do a lot of stories about coyotes and crows.”

Instantly the coyote ears perked and he hopped his front paws onto the fence in excitement. “Really? I would love to hear about those!”

“I’ll be sure to listen, then. It’ll be nice to have your company from time to time.”

A series of more pecks rattled Fable; this time on the head. Luster was ruffling her feathers and she flexed her talons, nervously. The hint taken, Fable relented. “I guess we should go,” he said somberly.

“Stay safe, coyote. Critters like you get into a lot of trouble.”

“That's what everyone says!” snickered the energized feral as he parted the barn. He navigated around rocks and sparse trees until he and his raven companion were out of the area.

“Isn’t that great? I wonder what the horses can find for us!”

“Do you really intend on going there regularly? The place isn’t good for my feathers.”

“I’ll be careful. Don’t worry about me, Luster.” The coyote bumped his head up at her.

“Someone has too! But I’m done with adventures for today. You take care, yote. I worry about your sense of danger.” She gave a final peck to the head and took off over the gully and towards the forest. Fable sat there in the tall grass, curious about what she meant. His ears tilted and swayed as he thought.

A pert wind whipped through the field. The coyote's short coat of fur shuddered under the sudden cool. He looked out at the field and locked his sight on a large castilleja flower. It’s fiery petals speared up towards the sky, proudly. Several other flowers gave the brown and green meadow dots of sharp colors.

Two front paws slid in the ground, bringing a canine body down to the ground. Fable crossed his paws and rested his chin on them as he stared at the flower. He frowned and tried blinking. His expression didn’t change, and several clenches of the eyes followed. Finally, he sighed and rested.

“Am I doing something wrong?” He curiously sniffed, then pawed the flower, but nothing changed. Moisture formed in his eyes and slid into his cheek fur. Soft whimpers escaped the coyote as he half gazed at the plant. A deep breath only stirred more tears.

Rustling. Sharp coyote ears perked and his head rose to the other side of the meadow. In the distance, a forest blanketed a hill and beyond. Much nearer, a large grey figure slowly approached. It’s focus was solely on Fable. He stood and looked towards the gully and then the barn. He was far from both, and wolves could be very quick. It was very close, and steadily, but not cautiously, approaching the coyote. Their eyes locked; the wolf was a feral.

“H-hello,” stuttered the smaller canine. Finally the wolf stopped and looked from side to side.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Uh... Well, I was... looking at the flowers.” Fable shrugged at the stranger. The wolf raised a brow and tilted its head slightly.

“Flowers?” His voice was surprised and skeptical. “You don’t sound like you’re lying.”

“Well, I’m not. And what are you doing out here?” Despite the slight growl in his tone, Fable’s tail couldn’t help but remain low.

“Just passing through. Nothing that concerns you. Though, I don’t think you should be here after the sun goes down.”

Fable tilted his head and perked his ears. “Wolves do like sounding ominous, don’t they?”

The wolf shrugged and started walking, again. “Do as you wish, but my pack isn’t like you and me. They see you as prey and competition.”

“And what do you see me as?”

“A waste of time and energy. A coyote staring at red flowers isn’t very intimidating.”

Instantly, the coyote’s ears drooped and his defenses fell. He looked to the flower and sighed. As the wolf passed, the coyote started towards the gully. His head drooped lower than his shoulders as he began to leave.

The blue sky stretched wide above, and the wind, picking up, tipped the swaying grasses. Two grey dots parted ways in the sun-touched meadow. It was a long, slow walk toward the steep gullies. Loose gravel slipped under the heavy coyote paws, but finally he slinked up and started crossing the hills that led home. His day was over, despite the sun still being in its prime.

The cool air of the deep forest crept through his fur and the familiar scents and sounds of his neighbors greeted him. However, the damp, chilling hole of his den was all he wanted. Clean stone as his bed, root tangled soil for a roof, and no color for his colorblind eyes to miss out on. His tail slipped over his eyes and he spent the day and the night alone without any new stories.