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Of course Road Runner has prey of his own he catches. Just weak little things that can’t outrun him, nothing can outrun him, but even in comparison they are all incredibly small and slow, even if they try to escape, going squirmingly into his gullet one by one as soon as he spots their presence.
Their hunt is fueled by necessity, not passion or meaning. There is no care or thought put into the preparation of the Road Runner’s food, except the kind he finds placed in those traps.
But he can’t exist on bird seed alone, however sweet it may be to see it laid out, endless gifts from the coyote to him, as much as he’d enjoy it if he could claim that was all he ever needed.
Even so, Road Runner has enjoyed more seed each year than most birds here eat in an entire lifetime, brought in from other places like the parts to brilliant contraptions. A lucky bird he’s come to be, he always feels taken care of, but seed is not enough for his kind to live on.
Thankfully his desert kindly offers these boring creatures up, and the thing is they all are so bad at getting away. Easy. He should sympathize, probably, in the middle of the chain as he is—at least afterwards when he’s no longer too hungry to worry about it—but honestly he is a little annoyed—it is not fun. The spiders are not even good at hiding, the snakes are not even a little bit clever.
It is more fun for him to be chased, than to chase. His mother had become mates with his father solely because he was nearly as fast as her, and they would go in circles again and again, blurring circles around and around, as he and his hatch mates watched, awed. Each season since they first paired, they come back to each other to start anew, and that is how it is meant to be.
This is what true love is; an endless cycle, a choice made over and over.
The first season after his short pinfeathers had grown into his long adult feathers he had sought a life long mate, to hunt beside, to return to, and raise young together. His standards weren’t that high. They didn’t even need to be able to keep pace with him, just come close! But no other bird could! They all abandoned him in their frustration, because he could not bring himself to slow down for their sake when they asked, they all eventually gave up on him.
The only one who does not ask him to slow down, who accepts he will run and tries to keep pace, or to cage him so he can’t—a predator with desire in his eyes and a sharp toothed smile. Reaching hands. Wanting.
He loses, of course, because they always do, but he comes back to play again, again, again!
Again! Again! Again!
So he did not have to be alone ever again because the Coyote will always return; this is what love is.
Road Runner knows the Coyote really wants to devour him, of course he does. This is what coyotes do. Roadrunners eat lizards, eat mice, and coyotes eat roadrunners. He has seen it. Slow birds torn apart in the jaws of other coyotes that aren’t his. The knowledge doesn’t bother him much.
Lucky birds. Lucky, lucky birds. Getting to enjoy the thrill of the completion. Still, it’s sad their own game must end so soon.
(Of course the Coyote has other prey. Easy to catch prey, already dead, but he doesn’t like to think about having to share his Coyote with other prey, so he pretends nothing else exists. Lucky Coyote, he’s the only one that has come close to catching him, has even held his throat a few times in his hands. Coyote has nothing to be jealous of.)
His Coyote thinks he’d taste like a bunch of delicious things. That he’s special. His Coyote loves him, so he always comes back to see if it’s true.
(And Road Runner always comes as close as he can to his side without risking losing the game. Because Road Runner loves him too.)
He’d only know for sure if the Road Runner would let himself be caught, and then live forever inside the Coyote, become a source of life for him, intertwined and he imagines it, sometimes, daydreams about the jaws in his neck, the satisfaction in his eyes, the thrill and fear, but what then? What after?
Silly Coyote, always ready to play. If the Coyote did not want to devour him so badly, where would the want in his eyes come from? Oh he couldn’t stand it if it were for something else! If he didn’t rise once more and chase, and chase, invention and planning just for him! Again! Again! Again!
Only it has been a long time since he’s seen Coyote. Some time since the game. And Road Runner misses him. Worries. It isn’t fun to run without him trailing behind. But he will return. He will.
Because Road Runner needs him to come back.