Chapter 18
Back home in Iowa, I had lived in an apartment, but that apartment had been on the edge of a pretty small town. Our windows had overlooked the beginnings of farmland, some corn fields but more dairy farms. Lots of cows and a few other farm animals, but also coyotes. I only rarely caught a glimpse of one, but at night I could hear them calling to each other.
And I could hear them celebrating a successful hunt. The sound of their cries had woken me on many a summer night, and some winter ones as well.
But worse than their triumphant howling had been the dying sounds of their prey. I know it's not technically murder. They weren't human. They were hunting for food they needed to live.
But the sounds of those animals shrieking through a painful death haunt me still.
Evanora, cla
