Phillips Harbour.
Monday, October 19, 1868. Evening.
The coyote sits, waiting, listening and following a whim of the moment. It grows darker, all sounds fading, till the ones his departed companions are just a memory. He waits, until a casual shift of air spurs him to action. Hey Spring, they're gone now, will you talk?
The water of the spring burbles out, a little louder than before Yotee spoke, like a pleased greeting. Then the sound subsides. Like Yotee earlier, perhaps it is listening.
You're a good spring, very clear, very cold. Yotee trots around, then walks over the pile of scattered stones. He examines the little stream that leads away. Anyone else come and drink here?
The spring's water eddies out in a yes. In the whirl of the water, Yotee can see a little spirit squirm around, like a small, happy fish.
Yotee crouches down beside the water, watching the tiny spirit. Does a big wolf come?
The fish-shape has a long, wavy tail fin. It wriggles this fin back and forth. No. It swims close to Yotee, nose pointed to his nose.
The coyote leans closer, nose touched to the surface of the water. Ripples spread away as he exhales. Does a friend come?
The little spirit-fish touches its nose to Yotee's when the coyote leans down, then flutters backwards on the exhalation. Yes! The spring's spirit dances in the shallow pool before the stream. In the ripples of its wake, the coyote can briefly see the outline of a unicorn.
Oh! Yotee's head snaps up in surprise. His ears perk, he leans down again, careful not to disturb the water. A part of him wants to splash around, chasing the fish-spirit, but he resists the urge to torment. Instead he carefully breathes, I'd like to meet, will the friend come soon?
The spring spirit leaps into the air and falls back into the pool with a soundless splash. I don't know? The spirit sounds a little melancholy at this thought. It had been a long, long time. She said she was sorry she hadn't come sooner. Maybe she will be back again quicker since?
Maybe. The coyote settles down, stretching his belly out on the ground beside the stream, feeling the dampness that's leaked through the earth. Are you lonely? I can stay. I'm here to make things better.
Yay! I like you, the spirit says, swimming a few feet down the stream, then back up again. She makes a leap, long fin wriggling, to get back to her tiny pool. What are you going to do to make things better? The unicorn made me clean and pure and run true. I feel so much better now!
You are! You are very nice and clear. I've been in a lot of water, and you are the best by far. Yotee snaps after she leaps, slowly enough that it's obvious he's only playing. Every coyote must bite at jumping fish, after all. I'm going to open a door, then we can all go home, or all our friends come back.
The spring burbles out a giggle from its mouth, while the fish makes a high leap as she jumps back downstream, waving her tail over Yotee's nose as she goes. Oh! Going home sounds grand! We all need our source, don't you think? I was cut off before the unicorn came, and it made me weak and sick. I'm better now! But the unicorn was still sad. Is that why, do you think? That more paths need to be unblocked?
Yes, I think so, that sounds right. Yotee follows her jump, snuffing loudly. There are shadows too, I'm not sure why, but they're bad. The Unicorn sounds like a good friend.
She is! You haven't met her? I don't like shadows either. Not black muck that clogs me up, make me thick and sluggish and stupid. Her tail twitches as she swims up and down the stream before Yotee. Much better to be clear and clean.
I haven't, I've been lots of places but she's very hard to find. Maybe I'm too dirty. Yotee grins, nosing down to the water again. I could wait here and keep you company for a while. I might fall asleep; I have to do that.
I don't think she'll be back tonight, but you're welcome to stay! You can wash off downstream, there's plenty of water and I'll make you very clean! Like me. Clean can be contagious, just like dirty, the spring confides. I'll watch for the unicorn for you, if you like. I don't sleep.
Okay! Sure. The coyote follows the spirit's suggestion, heading downstream and splashing around. While clean can be contagious, it still takes some time. Sleep, as warned, comes soon after the freshly washed Yotee lies back down beside the spring.