These poor Skyline—what are they?” I couldn’t think of their mascot, and I turned back to their marquee sign to check. It said HOME OF THE COYOTES, and I swore in Old Irish with such prolixity my father would have been proud. Coyote was already laughing and putting distance between us. He knew I’d be annoyed at being tricked, and I was. “Not in your house, eh? Did one of the Diné even die back there?” I challenged him. “You lied to me about that maiden gettin’ eaten, didn’t you?” “Yep, only white people died.” Coyote grinned wickedly. “But I didn’t wanna let you wait aroun’ until one o’ my
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Ya that god needed to protect them. They gave him so much patronage
