"Grey" is the best way to describe the slim coyote before you. He would seem to be a cousin to the long afternoon shadows, moving with a silent and sinuous grace that belies his apparent age; he seems both ancient and ageless at the same time, like the hills, or the wind that blows eternal. His fur is grey, shading to white in spots, with hints of what you would guess was once a deeper brown in places. Long whitish-grey headfur lies caught up in a leather thong over one shoulder, and battered and wind-worn sunglasses adorn his long grizzled muzzle.
His clothing seems as ageless as the coyote himself; grey tunic with a foldover across the chest, fastened by brass buttons; the pants seem to be the match for the tunic, well worn and patched at the knee. The whole ensemble somewhat resembles a Civil War Confederate soldier's uniform, minus the braid and piping. A white bandanna flutters from it's anchor around his left elbow; a grey silken sash is tied around his waist. The only departure towards color in his accoutrements is the tooled leather satchelbag casually slung around one shoulder, depicting a scarlet raven on the flap.
On his shoulder, a splotch of bright green perches; the igeckona Tekton. With a 'mrp!', the little lizard calls Wanderer's attention to you, and the coyote seems to return your gaze with pure white eyes, that burn with a light of their own, and seem to look right -through- you.. He smiles, fangily. "Hello."