the walrus and the carpenter
#4
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He watched the young coyote put away his knife, having admired the skill with which he had been sharpening the blade. Kansas wasn't so good with tools - he could draw, paint, and write, but his artistic tendencies didn't go much further. He wondered if he would be more useful or even self-sufficient with skills in weapons and knives and whatnot, but he seemed to keep busy in any case.



The other's voice for some reason contained an apology - odd. Kansas was the one who'd trespassed, albeit unintentionally. Kansas also noticed that the tones were friendly, inviting. Perhaps the coyote was caught off guard, interrupted, but he didn't seem to mind. Kansas had not kept company with any coyote so far, but his wariness was slowly fading. I'm sure it will, but if you don't mind...? I'll leave soon. He awkwardly seated himself back on his heels, eyeing first the canine, then the camp around them. Do you live here? Only after he had asked it did he analyze the question for any flaws, but it seemed safe to him. Oh, and he'd forgotten his manners. I'm Kansas.


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