our village (17)

It was a wolf-sized coyote, that’s what she decided.  Sometimes you couldn’t tell–was it the runt of a wolf pack, or was it the alpha coyote–but this one, she decided, was the alpha coyote, wolf-sized, robust and meaty, maybe not the oldest and wisest, as it just ran into the headlight beam of her dream, sprinting out of the darkness, a healthy wolf-sized coyote that didn’t think it would ever die, sprinting and strong, and ruthless, and careless, and wild.  Willing to do anything to win, that’s what the sprinting glimpse of a wolf-coyote looked like in her dream.  Maybe not the oldest and the wisest, she was saying to herself, telling herself a story, but the strongest….  Until she died.  And with that thought she slammed on the brakes of her dream, and the wolf-coyote and everything else she was subconsciously thinking vanished into the darkness.  She was awake.  I saw it all through her window.

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