Four
Coyote Country. On first glance, it didn’t look much different than any other place I’d seen. In fact, it resembled the West more than I thought it would.
The wooden huts, the hay roofs, the circular villages with the dusty roads. I could almost believe I was back home. The Coyotes we passed didn’t look that different from us either. Most of them were just hard-working people tending to their fields and houses. The children played catch between the huts and the women weaved beautiful tapestries that would make my mother jealous.
Between the poverty and desolated scenery, we fit right in. The holes in our clothes and fallen faces from lack of food made us blend in as regular passing travellers.
The parchment the Seer had given us turned out to contain a map guiding us through the l
