If nothing else, he can be grateful that his staring match with the coyote is less awkward than he initially feared it would be. The silence drags on, but what else could he expect? She can hardly reply to him verbally - although that roll of her eyes is as convincing as anything that he was understood. Without elaboration, however, he can only wonder at it, at her. Why is she out here? How much time does she spend in this form, that it's all he's ever seen?

Faced with a myriad of questions and precious few answers, what can Derek do but follow? Now that he's committed himself to figuring out the shifter, he has little choice but to go with her, as directed. At least, he's fairly sure that this all amounts to guidance - and that it's not a trap (unlikely, but always possible). There's still a part of him that questions the idea of going after her, like maybe she's not actually signalling for anything and was just trying to taste his shirt, or something.

That doesn't make sense, but neither does a coyote in London.

Derek follows, not too fast - he's not convinced that he won't spook her - but ensuring that she doesn't leave his sight.