A Lone Coyote

The temperature had dropped to -27°C, feeling like -30°C. The wind blew through the frozen landscape, stinging my face like needles. My beard froze, and despite my rugged winter jacket and thick gloves, my hands shook as I gripped the camera, fighting the cold that seeped into my bones. Through the whiteout, I caught movement, a lone coyote, standing resilient in the brutal cold. For a moment, it was motionless, ears sharp, eyes scanning the emptiness. Then, it turned and locked eyes with me. We both froze—me behind the lens, it in the endless white. I pressed the shutter. The moment was sealed—a silent encounter between survival and stillness, where the wild met the watcher.