“Coyote said I was dying,” I told him. “And Christy wanted me to.” “Coyote, eh?” He gave me an odd smile. “I went to grab some coffee that first night you were here, and when I got back, he was sitting on the edge of your bed. As a coyote.” He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. “Samuel said the first X-rays showed that you’d broken your neck. He . . . wasn’t optimistic. But after Coyote had his visit, things got better.
