The kids’ bags were bulging with candy when I caught an unhappy sound. Not near where we were walking, but somewhere a road or two over. A young child, crying out in fear. Maybe it was just a little girl reacting to a jump scare someone had set up— an axe-man in the bushes or a bat dropping from a tree. But the sound tugged at me.
I yipped twice, then twice again.
Garrett scooped Dylan off my back and I dashed off down the block. As I ran, I flicked my ears back and forth, trying to localize the source of that fear. In the distance, the child whimpered again, a sound of terror suppressed as if trying not to make too much noise.There.
I redoubled my speed, the stirrups flapping against my sides. Keeping to the shadows, I cut through a side yard, sprinted down the next two blocks, and turned left. As I rounded the corner, a streetlight illuminated a young girl a little older than Dylan. She stood clutching a sack of candy, while in front of her, two teenage boys nudged each other and giggled while pointing at her. The smell of whiskey on their breaths carried clearly on the air.
One of the boys said, “Give us your loot. Don’t make us come get it.”
The girl shook her head silently, her arms wrapped around the bag.
“Aw, come on.” The boys advanced on her a step, shambling and off balance but menacing all the same. “You’re not really gonna fight us for candy, are you?”
Enough was enough. I sprinted around some bushes and came up behind the girl. With my charcoal-gray coat blending into the night, and with the blur of whiskey onboard, the two boys took a moment to spot me. But when I stopped ten feet behind the child and silently bared my fangs, their heads went back and one boy gasped.
Mouth open, fangs gleaming, nose wrinkled and hackles raised, I paced forward one step, two, three.
The teens broke and ran, one of them dropping the stuffed pillowcase they’d carried. Tripping over each other, they bolted off into the night. My wolf wanted to give chase, harry them and nip at their heels and teach them the consequences of bullying. But the little girl sagged to the ground, sobbing, and I wasn’t about to leave her.
She hadn’t seen me yet, so I crouched low to the pavement, tail wagging furiously and yipped. The girl turned and her eyes widened, but she didn’t run. I crept forward a few feet, belly down, and paused there, my head cocked. I’d assumed she’d run home once her tormenters were gone. Instead, she stayed put, looking around her, then turned back to me.
“Are you a nice dog?”
I wagged harder. I was going to sprain my fucking tail at this rate.
“Good dog.” The child’s voice shook. “I think I’m l-lost.” Her next breath was a sob.
Well, fuck.
I could go get one of the pack adults for her, but they were several blocks away, and despite how fast the two boys had run off, I didn’t want to leave her alone. The bullies had been drunk,and a scare wears off quickly when your brain is pickled. They might come back and they’d be pissed off.
I could try to rouse someone from the house beside us, but I didn’t hear anyone home and the lights were out. Plus my size and wolfy appearance would be a strike against me in getting someone to open their door. This seemed to be the black hole of the neighborhood, with only one house decorated. Trick-or-treaters called to each other from the next block but none were in sight.
With my ears down and my mouth open in a doggy grin, I crept closer. The child’s scent lay on the sidewalk I was crossing toward her, which meant she’d come this way. Maybe by following her scent trail, I could guide her home. I reached her feet and lay down, licking her ankle delicately.
Her whimper turned into a giggle. “That tickles.”
I licked her again and got another giggle. But then she sobered. “I want my Daddy.”
My little yip was meant to be agreement, but she startled. I licked her foot again.
She pushed at my head, then plucked at the straps around me. “You have a saddle. I’ve never seen a dog with a saddle.”
I nudged her, wondering if I could get her to ride me. And whether I could carry her. I was big, but a wolf’s back wasn’t built for loadbearing, and she was taller than Dylan.
She got to her feet, dusting off her princess costume. She was probably some Disney something, but I had no clue. The dress had long gauzy layers and scarf bits from her shoulders that flapped and floated as she patted her skirt. Once she’d picked up her bag of candy, I stood slowly.
“Ooh, you’re big!” She eyed me. My shoulders almost came up to her chin. I nodded my head and she grinned. “It’s like you understand me.”
I nodded again and beckoned back the way she’d come with my head.
“Is home that way?” When I nodded a third time, she asked, “Are you a talking dog?”
A headshake this time.
Her eyes widened, but she patted me on the head. “That’s okay. I understand you anyway.” She tugged on one of my stirrups. “I wish I could ride you but not in this skirt. Will you come with me?”
I put my nose to the ground, sniffed elaborately along her back trail, then returned to her and yipped.
