The agile coywolf dodged his playful bite, which was to be expected, but he could tell that he’d tricked the trickster and it filled him with pride. Laughing, he wagged his tail at her and licked her muzzle lightly as she came to nuzzle him. “You taught me,” he mumbled in a rare moment of modesty; he’d remembered how she had caught him off guard the same way and had only overplayed the theatrics a bit—much like when she’d pretended to be choking on the knife during the traumatic magic show.
Her praise made him beam and wag his curly tail even harder, and momentarily Skoll pranced around like the prince he was. “I gonna protect all the Court!” he vowed. “I’ll be the best fighter. Fight bobcats and tigers and baddies and everything.” He tilted his head up with this very solemn promise, his green eyes scanning the sky as if to search for the gods who might dictate his oath.
Then the puppy shot her a sideways glance. “But now, gotta play,” he said, and he bounced toward her again with none of the grace or shrewdness from before.
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