The next day, Coyote — refreshed, annoyed, and with a slight cramp in his left calf — took one look at the new bounty poster and said, "Boogieman? Seriously?"
With a snap of his fingers and a muttered, "I dream of instant confrontation," he vanished.
—
He reappeared midair — upside down — and landed with a comedic thud in a clearing. Before him stood a lanky dude in polka-dot pants, a crooked hat, and a smirk that reeked of undeserved confidence.
"So you have chosen death, huh?" the guy said, arms crossed dramatically, like a villain trying way too hard.
Coyote raised a brow. "Bro, are you even a Catalyst?"
"...No."
A snap. Missiles began to form around Coyote, glowing with dream-energy and bad intentions.
The Boogieman's eyes widened like dinner plates. "WAIT! WAIT! The bounty poster said 'Dead or Alive'! I pick Alive! Please, I'm fragile!"
Coyote lowered his hand with a heavy sigh. "Lame."
—
On the teleport-wagon ride to the bounty prison thingy — let's call it The Cage for now — Coyote leaned back and finally asked, "So, what's your real name, man?"
The Boogieman, now handcuffed and sulking, muttered, "Dalton. Dalton Smithling."
Coyote froze.
Smithling?
A chill ran down his spine.
Gandalf Smithling.
Coyote turned to stare at him, his usual goofy grin fading into something unreadable.
"Any chance you had a great uncle who used to be... wise, wore robes, died dramatically?"
Dalton blinked. "Yeah... actually. Uncle Gandalf. Died a few years ago. Mom said he was insane."
Coyote looked away, gripping the teleport reins tighter.
"Oh, he was something alright."
As they neared The Cage, Coyote's mind was no longer on the bounty, or Flin, or even Arthur.
Just the name Smithling,and the duality of the family.coyote mutter's to himself,if his family members are useless.. I'll be his legacy instead .