howl

It was more vivid than any dream I’ve ever had, and I came into it far more suddenly.  Rather than drifting in slowly from some other dream or a sleepy black void, I was inexplicably and instantly a coyote, sprinting at the edge of the desert, dodging between clumps of sage and leaping small cacti, the needles scratching at my soft stomach.  The sharp sweetness of the rabbit’s fear tingled in my nose, and my ears perked and twitched, following the sounds of its frantic paws in the soft, dusty soil.  Cool night air smoothed my fur as I ran, the moon nestled high above among ten million shining stars.  I hunted the rabbit because it was there and I was excited with equal parts hunger and sport.  I had even pounced too soon, knowing it would run, and knowing I would get to chase it, but not which one of us would win the little race.  Then I yipped, high and shrill in the cold night, and the rabbit stumbled at the sound, just enough for me to gain.  I sprung high, dropping upon my prey with wide jaws and gleaming eyes--

--and woke in my bed, the taste of blood and fur still warm in my teeth.

(1-6-12)
This strange short was probably inspired, at least a little, by the song "Fur," by Blitzen Trapper.  Check them out--worth a listen and Oregon-based!