I wake to fear. It is not my own, but rather my dog’s.
Vicar is trembling. I have never seen him afraid, not truly, but tonight he shakes so hard that the entire bed shakes. A soft growl rumbles in his chest, full of malice but muted by dread.
Ice fills my veins. My hound is a gentle soul. What lurks in the night that could turn him this way?
A haunting cry answers. It pours in through the open window, so loud the source must be right outside. More howls rise. The chilling symphony surrounds our house. There too many voices to count. Vicar sinks lower, trembling. His growl grows deeper.
I know these ghostly voices are only coyotes, but, in the dark with my brave hound cowering, that is easy to forget. I pull my blanket up higher and shift closer to Vicar. Together we wait for the howling to stop.