It was late fall when the coyotes came together and lived under the trees on the slope near the pond. Their dens were hidden under downed oaks and excavated burrows of the small animals, and the coyotes looked out on the hillsides and grass plains below where the prey lived, and upon the progress of the great dust columns of the enemy.
Coyote Journal, The Last Retreat
A novel of survival on the edge of the human world.
by Mike Meyer
They were each a stranger who had banded together when the enemy’s summer offensive pushed them from their territories, and for those who had lost them, away from their true packs.
All up and down the range on the morning-sun side the land settled and did not rise again, except at the big creek where there was a low hill. But then it truly settled, and the enemy had a town across the creek, and the town spread nearly across the valley to the far mountains. Those mountains rose high and were roundly tiered and were dark at night. It was to them that Coyote gazed, studying their features when the earth trembled from the attack of the mammoth yellow beasts of the enemy and the dust rose over the trees in the south.