I found her curled beneath a creosote bush, three miles out, where no one ever goes.
Her parched lips mouthed, "I knew you'd come."
I nursed her in my shelter, beneath the red stone cliff. Water first, in tiny sips, then slowly bits of food.

At nightfall we sat across the fire, her eyes assaying me.
"Coyote?" she whispered. "And Raven, too?"
I gave no answer.

We made love three times while the full moon arced. With each coming, her strength and hunger grew.
At dawn, I woke alone. Three white feathers, russet-banded, lay beside my head.
Our debts repaid.