The first thing I remember were the firm hands of my creators. They molded me, shaped me. Their hands were warm. They shaped my body, shaping the cold steel, giving me form in a slow process, full of care. For hours they toiled away, making sure I would be perfect. Then, there was a spark. Steam flowed through my pipes, and my eyes opened for the first time. The gears in my head started turning as I looked side to side at the world around me. The faces of my creators lit up as they saw me. There were two of them, a man and woman. The man wore thick rimmed glasses made from old cogs and a derby hat pulled down over long dark hair. The woman wore welding goggles pulled up onto her forehead, resting beneath very curly hair. They both had kind eyes and warm smiles. They looked at each other, excitement spreading across their face.

"We did it Doris!" The man said with a smile on his face. "Do you think Vern will like it?"

"Of course he'll like it!" The woman said back, smiling just as brightly. "You know how much Vern loves the stories of the Coyotes!"

They grabbed me off the table, lifting me into the air and carrying me through the house. It was a modest house, with all the essentials for a family of three. The floor was made of plain wooden boards, nailed down with a few threadbare rugs strewn across them. The walls were all painted bright colours, vibrant yellows and mellow blues. The place was lit by lamplight, giving everything a warm orange glow to it. Metal pipes ran along the walls to each lamp, providing steam to keep them lit. Other pipes climbed out of other spots in the walls and floor, linking up with various appliances and tools. Each shaky wooden table was piled high with all sorts of gadgets and gizmos, blueprints and tools. 

They carried me into a living room with a roaring fire set in a stone fireplace. Steam pipes ran into the fire, keeping it burning warm and bright. A young boy sat on a worn down rug, reading a book. Doris hid me behind her back, as my other creator went over to the small child. 

"What'cha reading there Vern?"

The boy looks up at his father with a smile on his face. "The story you gave me! The one about the coyote stealing fire to keep the people warm!" His book has what looks to be a hand drawn picture of a coyote, running through a forest with a flaming branch. 

Doris smiled. "I knew you would be." 

She pulled me out from behind her back. The child audibly gasped. His jaw dropped low as he stared at me in amazement. He looked like a mix of my creators, with Doris' hair and the man's eyes. He watched the cogs turn in my body as my tail began to wag. Doris took a step closer, as did he. 

"Is that a coyote Steam Critter? That's screaming!!"

Doris set me down on the floor as I ran a lap of the kid. He laughed and watched as I circled him. The firelight gleamed off my metal exterior as I ran, steam streaming from my mouth. My pistons pumped with each step. The child practically squealed with excitement. He joined me, running right along beside me, running through barren rooms filled with cluttered tables. We ran through the squeaky front door and out into the wide stone street of the city. Tall houses with ornate decorations and pointy rooves circled us and the little shack of a house we came from. Bright and beautiful street lamps lined each side of the street, each one lit with a soft gas flame. Gargantuan mechanical beasts pull carriages full of people. Beautiful stallions guide elegant buggies, while mighty bulls heave dirty stage coaches down the pristine tiled roads. We ran down the sidewalks, so bright they sparkled in the sun. We ran up and down the neighborhood for hours, looping through side streets and back alleys, all across town. 

This was how we were for years. We were close as brothers, thick as thieves. We did everything together. I was always at his side. Over the years, he grew taller, with his hair growing thicker and darker. He began studying technology, just as his parents did. At first he did it to repair me when I broke. Later on, he began doing other things. He modified me, helping me run faster and more efficiently. He helped his parents with their projects, and even started a few of his own. He loved working with steam parts, and I still loved running circles around him. 

But everything changed when the steam started running out. It was a crisis that affected the whole west. Steam provided people with warmth, safety from the elements, and even their livelihoods in some cases. There was a panic as people started hoarding as much steam as they could get their hands on. Some people even went rogue, forming gangs to rob and pilfer the remaining steam from any source they could find. The once sparkling streets were grimy and dusty. People stayed in their homes, their windows barred. The shining brass streetlights were never lit anymore. The west was wild, and Vern was no exception. 

He had grown into quite the capable young man. Years of carrying scrap metal for his parents put some muscle on his slender frame, while all his mechanical tinkering gave him an eye for the finer details of the world. The west needed someone to help it, to quell its newfound wildness. Verne decided he would be the man for the job. He left home at the age of twenty two, taking only a small bag of belongings, some of his inventions, and me. The west was wild, and we were going to fix it.