When the Horses Came
"The stars looked as if they were spinning slowly, spiraling across the sky...
Something fell out of them. It had a brush of a tail still spangled with their lights, and the same yellow eyes Out of Breath had seen looking at him out of the afternoon. He held his breath, his heart hammering with fear.
Out of Breath closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. You didn't want Coyote in your campsite. Coyote was always hungry, and what he ate was people who had got lost -- one way or the other. Out of Breath opened one eye. A gray, hairy shape was sitting across the fire from him, blotting out the stars and the moon. His tongue lolled out beneath rows of white teeth, and he lifted his back leg and scratched behind his ear.
'I brought you something,' he said. It was the growly voice that Out of Breath had heard in his head. Then he was gone, leaping back among the stars. Where he had been, a tall bony figure loomed above the dying glow of the fire. It put its long hairy nose in Out of Breath's face and breathed on him.
Out of Breath screamed..."
"Imagine an entirely new animal...
See Grandmother Spider, her great gray backside moving across the pattern, her eight arms shifting warp and weft. The new animal moves, shakes its head, startled to find itself here. Grandmother sees a pair of yellow eyes in the corner of the pattern. She didn't weave them there, but she beckons gracefully anyway, and a coyote trots across the world. The new animal sees Coyote and dances on its strange, uncloven hooves. Grandmother Spider nods. When Grandmother weaves something into the People's world, it is Coyote who sets it moving.
Coyote grins, tongue lolling out. Listen and he will tell you how it all came about. His own version, anyway..."
Avon Books, 1999