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For decades, there had been a single name spoken of with utmost reverence among the criminal underworld, and law enforcement and insurance companies followed the name with a spat curse at best. The Black Coyote had prowled the land for years, slipping in and out of some of the most secured buildings with ease. And then he had just disappeared; vanished without a trace. Until one night when a treasure he had never reached was within his reach.

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"These idiots are making it too easy."

The dark figure slid through the shadows, seemingly no more than mist rising across the roof of museum. Each pawfall muffled and dim in the soft soled shoes of the bandit making his way toward the stairwell, the glowing embers of a pair cigarette and the cloying scent of smoke wisping through the air as the two guards stole a quick break, unaware of the shadow bent on breaking into the realm they was bound to protect.

The bandit had been watching for the last week. Every move of the guards noticed and followed. The roof guard had his passion for cigarettes, or rather bumming them off the roaming guard that was standing beside him. The floor guards congregated every hour or so just to pass the boredom of the rounds, mute lips visible through the windows that they had never expected eyes to be staring through from a distance. Their charge held deep within the labyrinthine halls of the museum.

The coyote panted softly, his body covered in tight, grey and black garb that he had specifically designed to break his canine silhouette. It had been years since he had worn this getup; not since the chase in Nice had nearly killed him as he followed the backup plan of his mentor that sent him off a cliff.

But he had gotten the prize he needed. The figurine that had once graced the halls of the tribe of his forebears before it had disappeared into the halls of some collector centuries ago before.

With a mighty, silent heave, he hoisted his body atop the roof of the door, slipping his mimic against the top of the doorjam, the end connecting the alarm pads and letting him outsmart the alarm...when he turned it on, of course. The crafty canine smirked as the guard grunted, dropping the smoke and grinding it under a booted hoof. The squat, portly equine stumbled a bit tiredly toward the door, smacking his badge against it before it buzzed, flashing a single green LED. With a tired heave, the guard trotted down the stairs, the muffled thumps of his steps diminishing in the coyote's ears.

His companion slinked toward the opposite side of the roof, her route taking her away from the coyote hidden in the dark. The coyote relied more on his nose and ears than his nose, only the glint of steel when the light caught the guard's belt or handcuffs just right visible on the panther stalking the rooftop.

With a short exhalation, he lowered himself from his perch, his boots scratching softly, a jingle erupting in his ears as the black jungle cat turned, her eyes catching the light in that way only a feline can, glowing in the darkness. Plastered against the wall in the shadow, the coyote could only hope that it was dark enough that the cat couldn't see him.

As the coyote silently hoped, prayed, and cursed all at the same time, the wind played across the roof, sending a can skidding across the concrete behind the cat. The cat pivoted on his paws, primal instincts visible as he prepared to pounce atop the intruder. Tail twitching, ears locked forward, the cats gaze fell on the can, moving forward to the trash and picking it up before turning around again.

Her eyes played across the empty concrete, missing the small piece of metal slipping out of the doorjam from the inside as the handle eased shut and the electronic lock's light again flashed red.

His first step down, the coyote took a deep, quiet breath, glad for the air conditioning helping him cool his body from the dose of adrenaline and fear that had just burst through his mind. It would be another hour or so until the guard came back up, so his only option was to creep his way into the gallery. With a few taps on his phone, the coyote started the virus he had uploaded into the alarm system the day before.

With all the RFD this and smart that, one would have thought that the coyote's infiltration would have been made more and more difficult, but with a bit of coding and access, the system was almost custom made for entry.

Dipping his paw into his pocket, the coyote pulled out a gilded pocket watch, another relic of a bygone era that served him well. Flipping it open, the moon glided through the air as a canine figure howled at it, the second hand gliding around the pair a full two times as the canine stood pressed against the wall, and then an additional time for good luck.

His alert ears detecting naught of the stout horse that had preceded him in this corridor, the intruder stole into the stairwell, descending quickly and silently through the first level, passing brazenly past the all seeing eye of the camera above. You can still make technological ghosts.

As he reached the door, the thief pressed a card against the door reader, his virus erasing the loop from the camera and restarting the direct feed as it silently unlocked and started a loop recorded off the camera in the display area he was entering.

Slipping out of the door, Shadow slipped out the door, padding quickly out of the confined area and into the main section of the museum proper. From here on out, technology would be no help to him, only his wits and experience.

For many thieves, being in the middle of the sea of artifacts, from bones of long dead ancestral quadrupeds, to the china raised from the carcass of a long dead ocean liner that had lost the battle to the waves, and even to the row after row of gemstones showing the richness of the soil that surrounded him would have been a smorgasbord. Today, though, Shadow had a single target for his mission. To complement the figurine that he had won in that ill-fated trip to Nice with its twin.

The centerpiece of the collection on display at the heart of the museum.

Each step was considered and contemplated, angles calculated to allow him the lowest possible chance of detection as he stole through the cool darkness, only the occasional streetlight punctuating the dimness of the exhibit hall as he made his way through. Holding fast to the shadows, the coyote stole through the rooms, passing the wonders and oddities within before curiosity overcame him as he saw the exhibit just off the center of the hall.

Slipping over toward the side, he could see the display, a howling quadruped covered in dusky tan fur, almost identical to his own standing outside its cave den. He slowed and stared at the representation of the creature, Canis Latrans.

"This section is the most disturbing part of the rounds, Lars."

"Feels like you're being watched, don't it?"

The coyote jumped, the booming voices coming from just outside the exhibit halls. Heart pounding and ears pinned back, he knew there was no way to get out of that hall quickly. His mind raced, scrambling over the railing and landing on the dirt of the exhibit, he scrambled into the makeshift cave. The structure of the exhibit stabbed at him, the sharp corners pressing into his skin through his fur and the suit covering it. His blood pounded in his head with each pair of steps slapping through the room as the guards chattered.

For the guards, it was just another routine set of rounds through the Canine Natural History Hall. They almost could feel the amber eyes of the stuffed dummies they passed. Canis Lupine, Canis Latrans, Canis Tasmanian, and one, nervous but very unstuffed Sapian-Latran.

The coyote breathed a quick, quiet sigh of relief as the guards finally left, the thought crossing his mind how he had escaped predation the same way that ancestor standing before him did, by hiding in a den in the heat of the moment and going to ground.

"Guess you had the right idea, pop" The coyote breathed as he skulked toward the rear of the room, stepping over the exhibit featuring the long extinct Tasmanian wolf. His nimble paws quickly picked the simple lock, designed more to keep the door closed from runaway toddlers than to actually secure the exhibit beyond.

The coyote slipped through the door, latching it behind him and relocking it as he moved toward the display case in the center of the room. All around him were artifacts from the excavation where these two obsidian statuettes had been unearthed. The remnants of a family's meal preparation, of pup toys for romping and playing, of instruments of reverence or revelry surrounded the central dais. On that central dais, the prone form of a similar black glass statuette sat on a red velvet base, the lights blazing softly on it in the dim room. Shadow moved forward, eyes searching across the case for the security system.

"A beauty, isn't it, Mr. Shadow."

The coyote jumped as the lights came up, bathing the area in light as he searched for the source of the voice, finally finding it coming from the panther strolling into the room. He searched for any escape before shrugging his shoulders and turning to the panther.

"It sure is, Reinhart. I just wish we could truly understand what it means." He intentionally kept his paws from the bulge in his pocket housing his own figurine...his lucky charm for those years since that heist gone wrong.

And another heist had done so again.

"You needn't have snuck in. I would have been overjoyed to give you a private showing."

"I figured it would be appropriate. One last time. But I guess it failed again."

"It was good watching you on the monitors. You have not lost a step, even with the years since I last caught sight of that ugly costume you call a suit." The panther's white fangs flashed in a grin as he moved closer, running his paw across the glass case between the two of them. "Such a lovely piece, but we may never know what the actual purpose of the figurines. " He shrugged. "The sands of time swallow the context, leaving us to guess and piece together the story from what we can find."

"And you have people like me."

"Well, yeah. You break in and rip even more context from the already thin fabric. All for some little cur that just wants a nice little trinket in their house, not caring what it really means."

"You're not so pure yourself, Reinhart." The coyote's cold speech belied the smirk on his face. "You used my services more than once before. Hell, that piece right below you is one of them." The panther simply shrugged, his mind justifying each and every theft.

"Sometimes you need to use the resources of the opposition to do good. But that's not why you are here, is it?"

"I remember searching for that piece for years after the Nice debacle. You left me out to dry."

"You were more than capable of getting out of that mess...and it's not my fault that Interpol was investigating your target for trafficking. Sad that I could have waited a few years to get this lovely at a police auction. But, what's past is past. What are you here for? Trying to steal my little lovely here for some other jackass to ogle in their trophy room as opposed to letting everyone see it and wonder?"

"Actually, just here for myself, Reinhart. Just wanted to see the piece" The coyote lied through his teeth, knowing that the reason he had come was for someone more than just himself. His quiet steps carried him closer as the panther's eyes followed him.

"Just makes you wonder what the craftsman was thinking, was feeling when he made it all those years ago. What other pieces did this craftsman make all those years ago? Why were they made? It's always a question that has to tease at everyone that looks at this piece. "

The coyote nodded as the panther turned around, staring at an artist's rendition of a family of his ancestors, the pup gnawing on a stick as the older two focused on their crafts, one weaving one of the vividly colored tapestries that adorned the walls flanking the door while the other looked to be carving something from a mud colored stone, maybe one of the tools that sat in the display cases near the wall. The coyote's eyes followed the panther, his hands acting independently of his head.

"Reinhart, I guess I have seen enough. Good luck for this. It needs to be in these museums." The coyote turned to leave, heading for the exit, knowing that the exfiltration plan was completely worthless now. The panther turned back, the coyote blocking his view of the display case as one of the security guards came up to the pair.

"Michelle, please show Mr. Shadow out the front door."

"Yes sir." Replied the doberman in a subdued voice. The coyote knew that the guards would be penalized for his outsmarting them, but they would learn. And since Reinhart had missed him too, he couldn't punish them too hard. With a smirk, the coyote strode toward the Doberman, his eyes playing across the posters and hangings on the wall before he stepped into the main hall, a gasp of surprise making him and the Doberman look toward the panther next to the dais.

"How...what?"

"Our friend in Nice had both of these figurines. It's a matched set. Came from a dig in what is now Tuscon. Provenance is the paper under it."

"Why did you hold onto it?"

"Someone just paid me to find it. Told me to do the right thing. So it's going into the collection here."

"But why break in?"

"I'm a coyote. It's what we do."

As the two left, the panther was left to stare at the two black figurines now sitting in the display. The two black coyotes howling to the sky, the silent howl lost to the sands of time. To an era of legends.