It wasn’t a stare-down… more of a moment of general curiosity. A burning passion to know more. As Tom gazed into the coyote’s eyes, he couldn’t help but see a fragment of himself. He shifted his hiking pack to his left shoulder. Not once did their gaze break… a connection of souls. A feeling of nostalgia rushed over Tom. He knew this animal. He knew it. He could feel it.

Tom set his pack down and approached the mirror. The coyote did nothing but blink. Why wasn’t it moving, thought Tom. No one has ever stayed with him longer than to their own benefit. This felt different. This was change. He held out a hand, maneuvering it into the coyote’s reach. In his palm laid a half-eaten granola bar. “Please… take it…” Tom said. The coyote did nothing but blink. “Please…” Tom repeated. The coyote snatched the bar from his hand and scampered into the darkened shrubbery.

All that remained of the encounter was a single scratch on the back of his hand, left from the shattered mirror’s teeth.

Just like all the others.