That told Dylan more than hours of talking or anything else. Freya had made a decision. She was still Dylan’s dog and always would be, but she and Grey had come to an agreement. Maybe this was not such a crazy, wild-ass idea after all.
* * * *
The junior novice race, dubbed the Minitarod, was scheduled for the third Saturday in February. The fifty mile course, laid out and clearly marked, had been planned to offer a mild challenge, but nothing beyond a newbie musher’s ability. The weather forecast looked good. With some help from Sammy’s dad—who had taken an interest in the developments once his son had begun training—they took two sleds and short teams to the starting point.
Gotta remember to call the kid “Sam,” damn it, Dylan reminded himself.He says Sammy’s a little boy name and he’s growing up. Maybe he’s right. Okay, Sam.