Deer Dancers trilogy
Daughter of the Sky
"Look through a hole in time.
Look through a tunnel of compressed years to a place where magic makes more sense than science; where it is possible to understand that if you dance your prayers the right way, the horned god, the deer incarnate, will come into them and speak to you.
Five thousand years ago, along the valley of the Rio Grande, the borders between the worlds were thin, and supernatural powers might be in any stone. In the lightning, the rain, the animals. Any passing creature might contain the otherworld. If you lived there, the gods would move in and out of your world like unlikely relatives, troublesome or benificent. Coyote might come, scratching fleas and trailing the stars in the brush of his tail."
Wind Caller's Children
"Other's Child closed her eyes and opened them again. Coyote was sitting in front of the fire, its light turning his coat red-gold.
'If you human people are going to keep making rules about what you can and can't do,' he said, 'you are going to have to think further ahead. I have more sense than to make rules.'
'That's all very well,' Others' Child said crossly. 'You have no morals.'
'That is a fine way to talk to your father.'
'You are not my father!'
'How do you know?' Coyote inquired, grinning. 'All people are my children when they go into the wild places.'
He looked at her for a moment more, and then he was gone. She thought she saw the yellow eyes gleam behind the flames. Then they vanished, too."
The Long Walk
"The snow on the winter wind is thin and powdery and dusts Coyote's coat as he scurries along the riverbank. His yellow eyes cut through it like lighted windows. Above him, in the dwellings that the cliff people have built into living rock, Old Grandmother watches him. She is bundled in three blankets, and her eyes are as cloudy as the snow, but she can see him anyway because she knows he is there. He looks up at her, teeth grinning, and she smiles back, toothless. They understand each other.
Coyote is part of the storm in the way that he is part of every wild thing. He is unreliable and untidy, his jokes are crude, and his sexual appetite is insatiable. He is like an uncle, fascinating in his sheer awfulness, who you wish would not visit you. He is Life, which, of course, contains Death. The old woman knows all this because she is aged and ageless, the repository of her people's knowledge, old enough to remember things that happened before she was born, and perhaps things that have not happened yet."