NIGHT PATROL short-short story

Within a melee of confusion, coyotes howled with distinctive sounds. “Enough!” came from a voice, cutting through the evening air. When the head of the clan spoke, it was the law of the family to respect his wishes.

“Stop!” was a second command, most unusual since it was usually unnecessary. But this was directed to a young pup, overly eager for his first hunt. Everyone listened to further details for their next forage into a farmer’s field.

“Tonight, there is a special treat for all of us. Lamb chops. Your tongues will taste their soft flesh. It will be a very nice change from chickens.”

Scout, the runt of the clan, had special duties and reported his findings to the leader, earlier in the day. This new location of food was discovered beyond a series of sloughs. Now they stood in a group of eight hungry animals, listening raptly to their leader’s short speech sending taste buds shivering with want.

“Listen carefully,” spoke the father of the clan. “Prepare for our grand howl of celebration over these lesser ones.” The pack shivered anxiously.

“And we shall send fear into the hearts of them that await!” he snarled.

There was one animal that stood unafraid; a donkey with hardened hoofs. His ears heard from beyond the bushes. He knew coyote marauders could easily overpower defenseless sheep. But he was Eeeyore, donkey-protector of the flock. And the farm they spoke of was his home.

“Are you prepared to dine?” roared through the trees. The coyote leader was proud as his hungry pack sprang forward with a series of mighty shouts.

Eeeyore waited beyond a smaller hump of hill, near the beginning of his master’s fence line. Sharp hooves were prepared to do a little coyote-stomping this night.

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© Richard L. Provencher 2006-2009
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