Page 3 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

It was long after midnight when we finally delivered the lambs. the ewe had struggled mightily, and, unfortunately, the one lamb didn’t make it. i’d stared at its still, lifeless body for a little bit, before vern had covered it up with an old sheet bobby had salvaged from somewhere inside the house.

The ewe and the surviving lamb were happily engrossed in each other, the ewe licking the lamb all over while the little thing bleated and nosed out a teat.

Bobby clapped me on the shoulder. “It happens,” he said, and I glanced up at him.

Vern grunted from where he was doing clean-up. “Still,” he said, “sorry it had to be your first one.”

I swallowed, then said, “We tried.”

“We did,” Vern agreed. “Twins are hard on the girls. We’re lucky we didn’t lose all three of ’em.”

“Y-yeah,” I agreed with a shaky nod.

Bobby clapped my shoulder again. “Why don’t you take a few minutes?” he suggested, tipping his head toward the laneway. It was a gorgeous moonlit night, although the temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up. Clouds were building on the horizon, and I wasn’t going to be surprised if it snowed.

I glanced at Bobby, saw the kindness in his eyes. I nodded more firmly this time. “I will,” I said, stripping off my surgical gloves, trying not to grimace at the blood and amniotic fluid coating them. I’d never been squeamish before, and this was no time to start.

I was only a few paces from the fold when a howl went up. I froze, staring off into the moon-bathed fields, the dark forms of the swaying trees nearer to the edge of the property scraping at the sky.

“Aw, hell,” Bobby snapped from behind me, then charged across the laneway, into the barn.

“Wolves?” I asked Vern, hating the creeping fear in my voice.

Vern crinkled his nose. “No wolves around here,” he said. “Coyotes, on the other hand …”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought of coyotes, although I guessed they lived out this way.

Bobby rushed out of the barn, a shotgun clutched in his hands. “That damn pest has been nosing around here for weeks, scaring my girls stiff. Council keeps saying they’ll do something about it, but damn if the bastard isn’t back.”

Vern’s eyes widened as Bobby charged down the lane. There was another howl, followed by exuberant yipping—and it was coming closer to the fold. I glanced at Vern, but he was solely focused on Bobby.

“Bob,” he called, one hand outstretched, “wait—”

“I’ll teach that bastard, thinks he can run around here,” Bobby was muttering. He stopped suddenly, lifting the gun andsighting down it.

“Bobby!” Vern bellowed, just as a coyote burst out of the ditch, leaping onto the laneway.

Everything seemed to slow down. I stared at the coyote for what felt like ever, watching the graceful arc of its body as it completed the jump. The wind ruffled its gray fur as it moved. Its pointed ears were pinned back, its mouth open in what looked like a smile.

That smile disappeared as it yelped, and the perfect arc of its jump crumpled as it skidded into the dirt, rolling onto its side.

“Goddammit!” Bobby barked, cocking the gun again.

The coyote leapt to its feet, yelping as it stumbled. Bobby had hit it in the shoulder; blood trickled into its fur, gleaming in the moonlight.

My stomach twisted at the sight, and I started to second guess whether I was cut out to be a vet or not.

The beast lifted its head, and I caught its golden gaze. My breath stuck in my throat as time seemed to grind to a halt.

I wasn’t someone who thought animals were just brainless beasts. I worked with them, and I knew they had rich and deep lives, beyond what we could even fathom. But looking into this coyote’s eyes, I thought I saw more—a keen, quick intelligence, almost human.

It made my already-queasy stomach lurch.

Bobby still had the gun trained on the creature. The coyote looked up at him, both wary and pleading all at once. “Go on then,” Bobby snarled, but I saw the gun was shaking. “Get out of here, and don’t you come back. If I catch you ’round here again …”

The coyote lowered its ears and its tail. It turned, wincing again as it put weight on its right shoulder.

There was no way that coyote was going to last even a day in the wild. There was too much blood.