Guess this is where we part then, I thought, dipping my head in a small bow. When I looked up again, I allowed the desert to engulf my entire being.

I ran. The earth was still warm under my paws, each claw-strike sending a tiny jolt up my legs. Dust flared behind me and vanished into the hot wind, carrying with it the scents of creosote and sunbaked stone. The air turned razor-sharp as I gained speed, my lungs pulling it in greedily. I startled a jackrabbit from its hiding place and watched it veer away in a blur.

Golden hour painted the world in firelight; the dust that hung in the air glimmered like embers. I crested a hill, pushed harder, chased the wind until my body was nothing but muscle and motion.

Hours later, under a full desert night, I slowed at the outcropping again. My frustration was gone, burned away like mist in sunlight, but the thought of going back to four walls and human worries felt like a chain around my neck.

Fuck it, I thought, letting my feet lead me to the rocks and sprawling on the cooling stone. The sky was a black ocean scattered with diamonds. I'm gonna sit and watch the shooting stars before I go back.

I was probably twelve internal oohs and aahs in when a ripple of sound rolled across the desert. Thin, high and warbling. Coyotes. A whole chorus of them, weaving their calls into something older than the roads, older than the houses, older than me.

I lifted my head, listening, feeling the pull like a hook in my ribs. They were far enough that I could only just catch the echo between bursts of wind, but the visceral need to howl back in answer was immediate.

Muzzle lifted high, the first note came rough, unused, but it stretched into something that felt right. My voice wove into theirs without ever truly belonging. We were separated by miles and by kind, but for those breaths, I wasn't alone.

But I wasn't with anyone either.

When the last note of their song dissolved into the silence, I stayed there with my ears tilted toward the sound's ghost. It was at that moment I was painfully aware how much bigger the desert felt. Emptier.

Coyotes go back to their packs. I had no formal pack anymore. Just two cats who might already be home waiting, and a business that functioned as a pseudo-pack at best.

I stayed out there through the night, listening to the wind until the stars bled into a pale, predawn sky. Only when the first slice of sun cracked the horizon did I head for home, paws aching in the best way.

The cats were in the den when I padded through the dog door, both facing the dog door with their paws tucked under them. Both waiting patiently. I used my paws to push the dog door down, and again to push the handle down so it clicked into the locked position.

I should shower, I thought out of habit, flopping bonelessly on the throw rug in the middle of the room and curling up into a ball. Morph was the first one up, stretching with a yawn before hopping down to give me a headbutt and curl up against my side. Beans immediately followed, climbing onto my side. He gave a few paw presses to show he was happy before settling down.

We slept like that, wolf and two cats piled in a warm, ridiculous heap, while the world carried on without us.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Allison spiraled, shifted, ran with the coyotes, and ended the night asleep in a cat pile. As far as coping mechanisms go? Could be worse.

Happy Holidays — wishing you peace, warmth, and significantly fewer nervous breakdowns!

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