I wanted to wait on this one but the Muse got me in a chokehold. I'm unsure if I'll do more of this cause this was very much experimental but I do have more ideas for a post Four Souls of Coyote storyline
A Hundred Years Have Passed
The protest had gone well, much to everyone’s surprise.
No cops were called, the construction workers actually came to camp to visit with everyone, and the mountain was safe. At least for another few weeks. A small win, but a win nonetheless.
Either way, the look on that awful woman’s face when they all stepped out of their trucks made it all worth it.
As happy as the celebration felt throughout the night…some could not help the feeling that they were being watched by something. Just beyond the glow of the campfire’s light. Mataoka went to get water at some point in the night and swore she saw glowing eyes, belonging to a shape that looked not quite human but not quite dog either.
But now, as the sun was rising, everyone was heading home. A red truck was driving further from the mountain. In the driver’s seat was Mataoka, in the bed of the truck was her grandpa, and in the passenger seat was her son Eli.
“You alright, kiddo? A little tired?” Mataoka glanced at the young boy, who seemed transfixed on the oil pipe outside.
“…It was nice hearing Lalá talk about all those stories.” Eli finally spoke, “I don’t remember ever hearing him tell those.”
“He’s told you before. You were just really little at the time.” Mataoka’s hands shifted the wheel as they turned a corner.
“Do you think Coyote felt bad for what he did? For bringing the white people here?” Eli asked.
Mataoka’s lips pursed slightly, the way any parent’s did when their child asked them a question that was just a little too difficult for a straightforward answer.
“I think he didn’t fully understand what the consequences would be.” Mataoka chose her words carefully.
“Lalá said that when the white people shot Hoksila, Coyote was there. That he held Hoksila in his arms as he drew his last breath…” Eli recalled, “That must have been awful. Watching his son die. But I also feel bad for Wichincala. She lost her husband and her father in one day.”
“Yes, she did…” the weight of those three words hung over Mataoka, the lingering sorrow threatening to choke her.
“But it’s not entirely sad.” Mataoka tried to sound optimistic, “Wichincala lived, and so did her people. And that’s why we still live today.”
“But Coyote doesn’t live.” Eli pointed out, finally looking at his mother.
“…Does that upset you?” Mataoka asked, her words slow and cautious.
Eli’s brow furrowed as he thought about it, “…I guess it makes me relieved. Because he doesn’t have to live to see what happened to us.”
“Do you think Coyote will ever come back?”
Mataoka’s mind went back to the night before, back to that creature she had seen in the dark “…I think that nothing gone is ever truly gone. Not forever. Perhaps we still need him.”
After another hour or two of driving, the three of them finally made it home to their small cabin. Mataoka helped her grandpa out of the truck bed and into the house.
And all the while, all three of them were completely unaware to the eyes watching them up on the hill overlooking their home. Eyes that were ancient, hungry…
Coyote didn’t dare step closer to the light of the house. He didn’t trust light. Light came from fire, and fire came from…
No. He couldn’t, wouldn’t even think that name. Just another disaster to add to his generous supply.
A grimace escaped him as the breeze picked up, biting at his fur. But that still didn’t hurt as much as the hunger that stabbed and gnawed at his stomach.
It was almost funny, how even now in his fifth life the hunger STILL never went away. If anything it was worse than ever now.
He wasn’t sure why he woke up a fifth time, but he knew one thing. He would stay away from every creature from now on, especially humans. Even just seeing them from a distance was too painful.
Honestly they were pathetic now. Pale imitations of the creations he made so long ago…or was it yesterday…? Coyote wasn’t sure.
It didn’t matter. Humans were better off without him. If the Great Spirit had any kind of mercy he would die again and this would all be done. So many things would never have happened if it weren’t for him. Why did the Great Spirit even bring him back a fifth time?
Why?
WHY?!
