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{50 Words}
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By Felice Belman
Globe Staff

I’d heard about the coyote in Savin Hill Park. So I walked in the dark with trepidation, keys in my fist a ludicrous weapon.

What was that rustling?

That crunching of twigs?

Holy cow, what was that howling?

I froze in my tracks, straining to hear. It was getting closer.

— FELICE BELMAN