Death Comes in Three’s … part 2

… a short story by Andrea Cannon

The Coyote

The pack raced under the moonlight howling, yipping and barking into the cool night air. Miles and miles of farmland. This was their territory. Their hunting ground.

photo by coffee on pixabay

They jumped fences, ran across hay fields, and sniffed out their prey. Chickens mostly. The domesticated fowl were usually plump and pinned up…