40

You pick up a small stick and throw it a distance. The dog's head jerks to the side, and he dashes in the direction of the stick, crashing through the foliage and rustling up leaves.

Heather steps to your side, her rifle raised.

"What the hell was that noise?"

"Just a dog," you answer.

The canine appears at the treeline with the stick in his mouth and prances toward you, as if pleased and excited with his performance. He drops the stick at your feet.

"Where did that come from?" she asks.

"It wandered out from behind that pile of branches."

"Well, be careful, he may have rabies or something."

"Not much of a dog person?" you ask rhetorically, as you examine the dog. Around his neck is a collar with a tiny silver skull and the name TOBY on a tag.

"Yep. Not much of a cat person either. Come to think of it, I'm not much of a people person."

Heather starts on the path to the Cathedral, and you follow behind. Toby walks by your side, his head hung low. You…