The Desert Coyote can be tough to distinguish from the darker skinned mountain coyote.
Cecile wasn’t sure which she heard. Their sudden outburst of staccato yips slashed through the last of the evening darkness.
A soft breeze fluttered.
The coyotes’ quarrel in the canyon marked the end of a tormented night. Cecile had been in the canyon with the coyotes for hours, wedged into a tight space between three boulders.
She had the advantages of elevation and concealment, offset by the disadvantages of inadequate preparation.
Two men parked their truck off the side of Kanan Dume Road.
She watched them come up the hillside. It was slow going across the loose soil.
They couldn’t spot her, even with their night vision goggles. All they saw was the desert coyote.
It had wandered away from the others and paced back and forth along the top of a dim ridge.
