Coyote howls pierce and echo through dank morning air across a valley in woods where Bob and his wife camp.
Bob props himself up on one elbow awoken from a dream about headless crows shrieking at each other to eat his toes while he slept, glances out of his tent's flap into pitch black and sees the previous night's fire embers glowing when he realizes that it is coyotes howling in a nearby field through woods.
"Honey!?"
Bob gently shakes his wife's shoulder as she sleeps soundly in their tent at camp. She rolls over in her sleeping bag, grunting to be left alone.
"Jeez! That was a frightful sound," Bob exclaims to himself feeling goose pimples.
"Russ?" Bob says his dog's name into the dark. He reaches towards his feet and searches mats in the tent. Russ, the dog is not in the tent. "Russ!? Jeez, honey! You gotta get up. Russ is not here!"
"Huh ... huh? What?"
"Russ is not here. I just heard coyotes and he is not here."
"Where is he?" Bob's wife asks Bob propping herself onto an elbow on her mat in their tent.
"I don't know. Russ!? Russ!?" Bob shouts his dog's name into pitch black.
Coyotes howl again in a nearby field through woods.
"What is that!?" Bob's wife questions.
"I told you: coyotes."
"Get out there and find Russ!"
"I'm going. Jeez! What now, Russ!?" Bob exclaims while putting on shoes and a coat which lay beside his mat. "Where is the flash light?"
"I have it. Here."
The flashlight illumines the pitch black of "dead man's hour" and Bob stumbles over roots and branches to find his dog, Russ.
"Russ!? Russ!?" he repeats.
Stumbling through the dark with a flashlight towards a nearby field through woods where Bob imagines his dog to have been eaten by coyotes, he steps into a wrought iron, bear trap which severs his foot.
Bleeding at the ankle, Bob screams in pain at loss of his foot when Russ, the dog appears in the flashlight beam, licks Bob on the face and runs into the direction of the tent.
"I hear you, Bob," Bob's wife screams through the darkness. "But, I don't have the flashlight."
"Help me! Help me!" Bob screams.
"I can't find you, Bob. It's too dark. I'm coming. I'm coming."
"Call an ambulance!"
Russ, the dog appears out of the nestle of bushes on a leash with wife holding the tether of the leash.
"Oh Jeez!" his wife exclaims as she strips her coat, stoops down to one knee and ties a tourniquet with her coat as Bob clasps the butt end of the flashlight in his teeth to illumine his wife's nursing skills.
"I taught you well, didn't I?" Bob questions, fainting suddenly.
"Oh Bob! Don't faint! I'm going to call an ambulance."
Russ, the dog stays with Bob licking his face and wound alternately when Bob's wife emerges from woods into nestled bushes where Bob lies dead.
Bob props himself up on one elbow awoken from a dream about headless crows shrieking at each other to eat his toes while he slept, glances out of his tent's flap into pitch black and sees the previous night's fire embers glowing when he realizes that it is coyotes howling in a nearby field through woods.
"Honey!?"
Bob gently shakes his wife's shoulder as she sleeps soundly in their tent at camp. She rolls over in her sleeping bag, grunting to be left alone.
"Jeez! That was a frightful sound," Bob exclaims to himself feeling goose pimples.
"Russ?" Bob says his dog's name into the dark. He reaches towards his feet and searches mats in the tent. Russ, the dog is not in the tent. "Russ!? Jeez, honey! You gotta get up. Russ is not here!"
"Huh ... huh? What?"
"Russ is not here. I just heard coyotes and he is not here."
"Where is he?" Bob's wife asks Bob propping herself onto an elbow on her mat in their tent.
"I don't know. Russ!? Russ!?" Bob shouts his dog's name into pitch black.
Coyotes howl again in a nearby field through woods.
"What is that!?" Bob's wife questions.
"I told you: coyotes."
"Get out there and find Russ!"
"I'm going. Jeez! What now, Russ!?" Bob exclaims while putting on shoes and a coat which lay beside his mat. "Where is the flash light?"
"I have it. Here."
The flashlight illumines the pitch black of "dead man's hour" and Bob stumbles over roots and branches to find his dog, Russ.
"Russ!? Russ!?" he repeats.
Stumbling through the dark with a flashlight towards a nearby field through woods where Bob imagines his dog to have been eaten by coyotes, he steps into a wrought iron, bear trap which severs his foot.
Bleeding at the ankle, Bob screams in pain at loss of his foot when Russ, the dog appears in the flashlight beam, licks Bob on the face and runs into the direction of the tent.
"I hear you, Bob," Bob's wife screams through the darkness. "But, I don't have the flashlight."
"Help me! Help me!" Bob screams.
"I can't find you, Bob. It's too dark. I'm coming. I'm coming."
"Call an ambulance!"
Russ, the dog appears out of the nestle of bushes on a leash with wife holding the tether of the leash.
"Oh Jeez!" his wife exclaims as she strips her coat, stoops down to one knee and ties a tourniquet with her coat as Bob clasps the butt end of the flashlight in his teeth to illumine his wife's nursing skills.
"I taught you well, didn't I?" Bob questions, fainting suddenly.
"Oh Bob! Don't faint! I'm going to call an ambulance."
Russ, the dog stays with Bob licking his face and wound alternately when Bob's wife emerges from woods into nestled bushes where Bob lies dead.
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