A coyote with golden and grey fur walked into a hospital with wildflowers in his mouth. The flowers were droopy and damp, and clumps of dirty roots were still connected at the bases. The coyote walked down the corridors with busy doctors and nurses, and no one paid him a second glance. He went into an open elevator, reared up on his hind legs, and pressed the button for the sixth floor with his paw.
On the sixth floor, he made his way down the hall to room 623. It was completely silent in the hallway except for his footsteps, and when he arrived at his destination, he reared up again to open the door and walk inside.
It was a standard hospital room. There were some chairs, a window with metal bars on it, and a bed surrounded by all sorts of medical devices. Outside the window was the night sky, but there was no moon present, and the stars couldn't pierce the thick clouds. In the bed there was a doe. She woke up from a deep sleep the very second the door opened, but she did not look frightened, or even fully awake.
The coyote dropped the dirty flowers on the floor and nudged them a few inches forward with his nose. He looked up at the doe, surrounded by comfortable blankets and beeping machines.
“I’ve come here to kill you,” he said.