“Screw the coyotes,” Suki said. “I want to see the meteor shower.” She grabbed her jacket, flicked the farm lights off, and slipped out the door.
It was true that with the drought things came down from the hills, but she couldn’t imagine that any coyote wouldn’t be more afraid of her than she of him. And she really wanted to see the meteors.
It was a moonless night, but her eyes soon adjusted and she headed out to the back pasture where visibility was best. She stood in the middle of the field and looked up at the speckled sky, hunting for constellations that she knew. When her neck began to hurt, she lowered her head, and there he was. Large, four legged, and clearly not at all afraid of her. She froze.
Now another one, smaller, maybe a female. Not coyote. Bigger, sturdier, broad skulls. Wolves. And there were others. Too hidden in the dimness to count, but there. Yellow eyes shining in the starlight. Fixed on her.
Her mind raced. Could she run to the house before they caught her? No. Bad idea. Yell for help? Would that scare them off or make them attack? Should she stay tall and be dominant or act like a puppy and show her belly?
A shooting star blazed across the sky. She didn’t twitch a muscle. Nor did any of the wolves. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t look afraid, don’t even feel afraid. She took a slow step backward, the male took one forward, and the female snarled, curling her lip back to show a row of teeth, white and long and sharp.
A second meteor traced a line of light from horizon to horizon, picking out the silver ends of their beautiful, lush coats. She began talking, trying to keep her voice soft and low pitched. “Nice wolfie,” she said, and a giggle rose in her throat as she heard how inane that sounded. But wait. Did the male wag his tail? Maybe just a little. The female lifted her lip again. He growled, low, deep in his throat, and she backed up a step.
The male was close now, his jaws level with her stomach. He took another step forward. The female snarled again and lunged. He blocked her movement with his shoulder and snapped a warning. But even before the female rolled over and whimpered, clearly backing down, Suki understood that the message from the female had not been Kill but Go Away. So clear.
She slowly let herself down on her knees. Eye to eye with the male now. She could feel his breath on her face. It smelled clean and fresh. He was nothing like a dog. There was no I love you or I fear you. Only a question. Do I accept you? She let her breath out. Her heart was still thumping, but now she wanted to touch him. “You are beautiful,” she said softly. He leaned forward and licked her on the mouth, gently, briefly, and then turned and left. The pack followed.
The meteor shower was in full bloom now but she didn’t notice as she walked slowly back to the house.
Rosalind Trotter is a retired social worker, living in Eugene, Oregon.
