The howling of the coyotes last night, kept me from getting a good nights sleep. They were so close to the house, I was neurotic and tired enough to believe, that somehow they would sense me shutting my window and take the opportunity to attack. Being so late or early, depending on how you look at it, it never occurred to me that I was on the second floor and therefore the likelihood of attack was severely limited.

Still, neither Emma, nor I could get back to sleep right away, watching the clock tick time slowly away.

3:01 ... 3:03 .... 3:07 ...

Outside the howls got louder followed by quick short barks. As I peered out into the darkness, I imagined that they had made their kill and were celebrating their victory by calling to the moon, sending shivers down my spine.

Emma, meanwhile, sat still as a stone, never moving, though her eyes cut through the night and into the fields. Emiting a slow, low growl, the hair standing straight up on her back, I was sure she could see everything, as my own eyes struggled to distinquish objects in the dark.

Sleep finally came, the last of my fears giving way to restless dreams, haunting me until dawn. Awake again, my eyes sought to see in the daylight, any signs of disturbance left behind. But there was nothing, save for a damp rolling fog spreading out over the fields.