Coyote

Chapter 10: The Voice of Reason

"I hate to be the voice of reason-"

"You never are, Mr. Rodgers."

Now that we were safely inside away from danger, we all started to calm down a bit. Tensions were still high, but we were at least aware that, at least for now, we were all okay. Now, we had to plan our next move.

Mr. Rodgers nodded, and said "You're right about that. I hate reasonable voices. They're the worst kind of voice. One moment you're trying to nap on a log and then you can't fall asleep because some reasonable voice is telling you that you should feed your kids, or that you shouldn't fall asleep on a log in the middle of a river. That annoying voice ruins everything. But I think I need to listen to that voice right now. It's telling me that maybe we should just go home. We can leave those humans to the wolf imposters, those Trench-Coats. Are our lives really worth losing just so we can scare some jerks who stumbled through our woods and yelled at William?"

"Hey, I'm important."

"Important enough for all of us to risk our lives over this silly feud? Hey, I'd love to give it to those humans, I really would, but I want to live a little longer. Those Trench-Coats looked livid when we left them behind. I wouldn't put it past them to go after us once they're done with the humans."

He made a reasonable point. When you're staring death in the eyes, life looks alright. Preservation of the species and all that. But what was life if you didn't make something of it? This was my chance – our chance – to accomplish something great, not just for ourselves, but for all of us who have had their homes invaded by mangy humans, and who have had to live in the shadow of bigger animals who pretend that they're the real wolves while denigrating the rest of us. This was our chance to prove them all wrong, to show that we weren't little cuddly dolls to snuggle with – that we, in fact, are the true wolves.

Our argument was cut short by the wall voice. There was a moment of static, and then, "we will be arriving in Poughkeepsie momentarily. Again, we will be arriving in Poughkeepsie momentarily. Thank you for riding with us today, and for those of you who made it to the station, we hope that you choose to ride with us again in the future."

The train stopped, and we walked out onto the platform. The second half of the train wasn't that far behind us: its momentum carried it so that it was only about thirty meters away from us, right at the edge of the station. By accidently decoupling the train cars, I had only bought us a short amount of time. Any minute now, Lulu and her Trench-Coats would exit the train and come after us. I didn't really want to find out what they would to us once they caught up to us. I didn't even want to know what they would do to the humans, or what they may have already done.

I shouldn't have worried about the humans. No one should ever worry about them. Sweater and his friends climbed down from the train and hopped down to the earth. Sweater stumbled a bit when he landed, but his friends caught him. Together, they shuffled on down the tracks and walked through the big green doors of the station building. A few moments later, Lulu, Claude, Pink, Yellow, and Red, all stepped out of the train and looked around. They sniffed the air, and then followed the humans into the station building.

"What do we do next?" asked Kai, glancing between me and Mr. Rodgers.

Self-preservation is good. Some might argue that you should always be brave. Bravery can be fine at times, but I never thought much of charging headfirst into certain peril. That seemed less like bravery to me and more like foolishness. And let it be said that William was not a fool. I was smart and took calculated risks.

We had already gone too far to turn back without results. Maybe we could do this, and maybe we couldn't. At the time, I didn't know. Now that I'm writing this, of course I know what happened and if that risk worked out. That's the beauty of decision making though: until you get to the other side of that decision, you won't know if it was the right call. All you can do is make that call and see where it goes.

To the group, I said, "I think we should follow those humans. Let's find their home, scare them, and prove to the world that we, the true wolves of the forest, are not to be messed with."

Eli made snapping sounds with his claws.

I looked at everyone else. "The road forward is dangerous. We know this. But will you join me?"

Asher walked up to me and nudged my side with their head. "I'm here for you, William. I think you'll need my help navigating the human world."

Kai, too, stood next to me. "Hunting mice and birds back home gets boring. I'm so ready to see this mission through.

That left only Mr. Rodgers. The old man scratched behind his ear. "I couldn't care what happens to the lot of you," he said, glaring at each of us in turn to make his displeasure completely known, "but I don't know the way back home, so I guess I should stay with you."

I would have said it meant a lot coming from a disgruntled neighbor like him, but it didn't, so I said nothing.

We waited outside of the station building. In time, the humans emerged, followed closely by Lulu. We watched as they boarded another train, first showing their tickets to the usual human in a vest outside of the train. Lulu followed suit, showing her own groups' tickets, and then shuffling on board. The whistle blew, and the train began to inch out of the station, its wheels hauling itself forwards along the track. With each passing moment it got faster and faster.

The five of us had climbed onto the walkway above the platforms. As the train chugged along beneath us, we leaped (and pushed Mr. Rodgers) onto the top of a train car. If people think cats are good at landing, then they clearly haven't seen what a real, graceful landing actually looks like. We descended on that train like a gently falling snow, or the dew on a flower petal finally succumbing to gravity. We moved from the roof down to the walkway between cars, entered one of them, and found seats where we waited for the duration of the ride.