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They called him the Wanderer.

The furs who dared to venture out often saw him walking down the abandoned highways or traversing the endless, dusty plains in the country. The Wanderer was a Coyote. Tall, thin and fulvous. He did not belong to any clan and forged a path of his own.

He was dressed in a long dull-grey coat and covered his eyes with dark glasses. In the harsh new world since it happened, sunglasses and a coat were often a necessity. The sky was frozen in what looked like a perpetual dawn, an atomic gold which heralded a new day that never arrived. It was harsh on any fur's eyes if they were not covered. The seasons never changed, days were arid and dry while the soulless black nights were always freezing.

Occasionally, the rain came. It was not like the rain that had fallen in the past, it could fall heavily at any moment and burn against fur. When the weather was calm, the only sound that could be heard was the ominous breeze that blew across the land like a whisper. However, the Coyote purposely chose his clothing to appear anonymous and avoid attention. In the subsequent months after it happened, furs had reverted back to their tribal instincts. Canines and predators ruled the roost, fighting off anyone who crossed into their territory. Other species had also armed themselves heavily in response.

The Coyote was making his way down a stretch of highway, walking around rusted shells of cars and foliage which had pushed its way up through the concrete. He paused to sniff at the air. The advantage of being a canine in the new world was possessing a powerful sense of smell. Often the air carried the unpleasant scent of decay, but he would know if danger was approaching or when he had arrived at a new location.

The highway acted as a dividing line. The Coyote kept his eyes out for rival clans who would sneak into rival territory to hunt for supplies or food. Although the names of towns and cities were something of the past, the Coyote knew that this stretch was dominated by warring Wolves and Deer. Though descended from a pack breed, he travelled alone, avoiding conflict between species. Although he had been caught in the firing line a couple of times before, his non-pack status usually kept him out of trouble. The Coyote also kept basic set of supplies in a backpack, the most important being a six-shot revolver. A gun was a vital thing to have for self-defence.

With no elaborate means of navigation, he had to rely on the sun, remains of road turnings or sniffing out furs nearby. A spent cartridge lay on the ground and he kicked with his hind paw, listening to the sound as it clattered off down the concrete. His throat felt parched and he knew he needed to find water before he could continue.

There was a collapsed exit ramp on the side of the highway which indicated a turn. The Coyote climbed up the bank beside the road. The grass was completely singed and the earth was black.

Panting, the Coyote reached the top of the mound. He surveyed the land before him. There was a vast expanse of nothing, the yellow sky continued to stretch off into the distance. His canteen was almost empty and he needed to get clean water from a fur. Whatever species it was, it did not matter to him.

He sniffed the air again and caught the fain but definite scent of furs who had been nearby. The Coyote knew this side of the road was inhabited by the Deer, yet the scent was definitely Wolf. It was unwise to get caught between clans, but he was in desperate need of fresh water. Following his nose, he continued walking.

Above, threatening black clouds were gathering in the sky. The rain was going to fall. There was a structure ahead and the Coyote made for it. As he drew close, he saw the remains of a house.

The house would have been a fur's pride and joy at one time. It was two floors high, built in an old yet elegant colonial style and surrounded by a veranda. The faint border of a neat, square front garden was also visible, although the flowers had long since died. However, the roof had partially caved in and pieces of a white picket fence stuck like broken teeth out of the ground.

The Coyote made his way to the front entrance and peered inside. He had his revolver drawn, but there was no hint of danger.

There was a rumble and thunder and the rain began to fall.

The Coyote hurried inside and cautiously began to explore the house. The rooms downstairs were bare apart from a piano sitting in the front room. The scent of fur was still lingering, but he guessed they must have moved on.

He felt drawn to the piano as the majority of any furnishings found in buildings were always taken away by furs for firewood. Gingerly, he took a seat in front of it and lifted the lid to find the keys were intact.

The Coyote placed his revolver down, removed his glasses and pressed one of the keys. Its shrill but uplifting note filled the air. He pressed another one, savouring the sound. Something buried deep in the Coyote's mind soon came flooding back. In spite of the situation he began to play something that he used to know. The piano was surprisingly in tune. For the first time in years, he chuckled to himself as he played. Smiling, he finished his piece and closed the lid. He got off the stool and turned to leave, but froze in shock.

A Grey Wolf Cub was standing behind the Coyote. The Cub had been watching him with curiosity but his eyes widened in horror as the Coyote turned. The Cub opened his mouth but the Coyote put his paw to his muzzle, indicating for the Cub to stay silent.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I'm here to trade" the Coyote whispered The Cub slowly backed away.

"Mom! Bad man here" he yelled in broken English.

An adult pair of grey Wolves appeared at the living room door, both were cradling rifles "It's all right. I'm here to trade" the Coyote repeated, raising his paws.

"We ain't got nothing" the Alpha Wolf replied.

"We should hide. They might have heard us" he wife said, glancing around nervously.

The three Wolves began to retreat towards the front door, the mother held the Cub in her arms.

The Coyote turned as another shadow fell across him. He saw three brown Deer had walking in through the kitchen door.

They were armed too. The leader was tall and muscular, with a scar running down the left side of his face. He raised his arm and gestured at the Wolves. The three Deer raised their rifles. The Coyote knew he should not get between two warring factions, but something made him think differently. Whether it was the joy he had felt playing the piano, now shattered by impending violence, or the fact the Wolves had a cub with them, he couldn't put his paw on it. He stood and positioned himself between the two groups.

"Wait!" He shouted

"Step aside or we will shoot you too" the Deer ordered.

Both sides stared each other down, bodies frozen and eyes narrowed. Behind him, the Alpha Wolf had also raised his rifle. The Coyote turned, standing right in the firing line.

"Look, if you all open fire no one gets out of here alive" the Coyote explained in a calm but measured voice. "We only came over here to look for our son!" The She Wolf exclaimed.

The Deer remained silent, eyeing the Wolves up suspiciously, but both groups slowly lowered their rifles.

"What are you doing here?" The lead Deer demanded to the Coyote.

"I'm here to trade" he repeated "I need water".

"And what do you have for us?" The Deer asked.

The Coyote rummaged in his backpack and pulled out various items; wire cutters, a flashlight and a cracked spyglass. The Deer studied to objects, flicking the switch of the flashlight to discover it was broken, before picking up the wire cutters. He signalled to the Deer standing right behind him who pulled out a large canteen and filled the Coyote's bottle up to the brim.

The tense silence continued as the rain fell outside. The Deer stood on one side of the room, the Wolves on the other while the Coyote sat at the piano stool in the middle.

The Coyote wanted to leave now that he had what he wanted, but the rain showed no sign of easing. He sat back down at the piano and began to press the keys, trying to recall the tunes he used to know. He began to play an old pop song.

Coyotes were not renowned for their singing voices, but he wanted to do something to pass the time until he could get out of there. He sang along.

A Deer standing beside the leader began nodding along to the tune. He must have been a teenager but his face bore battle hardened scars. However, his brown eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he recognised the song.

"My mother used to play this in the car" he murmured as the Coyote finished. "I remember it too" the She Wolf replied.

The Coyote tried another one.

"When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me Whispering words of wisdom Let it be.

And in my hour of darkness She is standing right in front of me Speaking words of wisdom Let it be"

The teenage Deer joined in and so did the She Wolf. The Alpha Wolf hesitated but began to sing too. Soon, they were all singing while the Cub howled in unison.

The tension eased as every fur in the room felt something they had not experienced in years. They felt relaxed and comfortable in each other's company. Soon, they were chatting amongst themselves.

The Alpha Wolf explained that he had worked in an office at some point, but had forgotten precisely what he had done. His Cub had been born after it had happened. The lead Deer had served in the military but had retired to live with his wife on a farm. She was long gone. The Coyote had always drifted. He had gone from job to job, which probably explained his habit in the new world.

The group suddenly realised that the rain had stopped. The Coyote feared for a moment that hostilities would resume.

The Deer looked unsure of what to do "Both of us have what we want, now I suggest we all leave here with no trouble" the Coyote said firmly.

The lead Deer hesitated, but nodded. "Fine. But if you cross onto our land again we won't be so forgiving" he asserted.

The Wolves left with the Coyote following, he slipped on his glasses as the light hit his face. The Deer stood on the veranda and watched. The Coyote made his way back down to the road, behind him the Wolf family scampered up their side of the bank. The Coyote smiled to himself and continued walking.

There was a sudden crack as a rifle was discharged. The Coyote ran, sneaking a glance behind him. The Wolf trio had made their way safely up the bank, but a ferocious gun battle was breaking out.

Packs of Wolves and Deer had appeared on either side of the highway. Unaware of the conversation that had taken place in the house, the other clan members had decided to continue their fight.

The Coyote continued running down the abandoned highway until the noise had faded. He paused for a moment, panting. As soon as his breath was back, he straightened up. Keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead, he continued walking towards the unchanging yellow horizon.