The Shepherds Watch

The Shepherd’s Watch

The first thing Sammie knew about Anna was that she smelled sweet. Not food-sweet. Sammie knew that smell already. This was different. It clung to the little girl’s hair and skin beneath all the other unfamiliar scents in the room, warm with the faint salt of tears she was trying very hard not to cry. Sammie didn’t know why she was crying. She only knew she wanted to get closer. Sammie sat inside the box because the big man had put her there and gently stopped her each time she tried to climb out. She didn’t understand why she had to wait. Waiting was difficult when there was a new person only a few steps away making such happy sounds that Sammie’s whole back end had begun to wiggle.

“Oh my God.” The little girl’s hands flew over her mouth.

“Is she mine?”

The man laughed. “Well, technically, she’s ours.”

“Dad.”

“Yes. She’s yours.”

The girl dropped to her knees and held out both hands. That was all the invitation Sammie needed. She scrambled over the side of the box and launched herself at her. For several wonderful moments there were arms and hair and puppy paws and laughter. Anna fell backward onto the carpet, squealing while Sammie climbed onto her chest and covered her chin with frantic puppy kisses. The tears Sammie had smelled were gone beneath something warmer now, something that made Anna’s voice rise and Sammie’s tail move even faster.

“Sammie!” she laughed, trying unsuccessfully to protect her face.

Sammie heard that sound often over the next few days and soon learned that it belonged to her. Sammie could mean come here. It could mean stop doing that. Sometimes Anna said it while laughing, and Sammie knew from the sound alone that nothing bad would follow. Other times Dad said it in the sharp voice that made her ears lower before she even knew what she had done. Once, he shouted it after she discovered she could squeeze beneath the wooden barrier around the yard and nearly reach all the wonderful smells on the other side. Most often, though, Anna said it when she wanted her, so Sammie came.

Years passed in smells and seasons. Anna grew taller, and Sammie grew with her. The little soft place beside Anna’s bed eventually became unnecessary after Sammie discovered that if she waited until the house became quiet, she could climb up beside Anna and curl herself behind her legs. Dad didn’t like that very much. Sammie knew it from the long breath he pushed through his nose and the tone he used when he pointed toward the floor. Anna ignored him, and eventually he stopped trying to keep Sammie off the bed. When the sky boomed and flashed, Anna pulled Sammie close beneath the covers, and Sammie listened until the thunder moved far enough away that Anna’s grip loosened. When Anna woke frightened in the darkness, her heart beating too quickly and the sharp smell of fear rising from her skin, Sammie rested her head across her until her breathing became slow again. Every morning Anna disappeared at around the same time, carrying the same collection of familiar smells with her, and every afternoon Sammie knew she was coming home long before the big yellow thing stopped outside. She knew the particular rumble it made, knew the rhythm of Anna’s feet coming toward the house, and could find her scent among every other person who stepped from it. There were scraped knees Sammie carefully licked until Anna pushed her nose away, sweet-smelling celebrations where everyone gathered around Anna and Sammie was repeatedly told no whenever she got too close to the food, and cold mornings when a tree appeared inexplicably inside the house and everyone seemed delighted about it.

One morning, Anna sat on the kitchen floor with both arms wrapped around Sammie’s neck. A bag full of things that smelled like Anna sat beside her.

“I don’t want to go to Grandma’s without you.”

Sammie didn’t know where Anna had to go or what Grandma’s was, but she understood the sadness in Anna’s voice and the way Anna held onto her longer than usual. Sammie leaned her weight against her, breathing in the familiar scent at Anna’s neck, until Dad called from the other room and Anna finally let go. Then Anna was gone. Morning came without her. Then another. Her place in the bed stayed empty, her footsteps never came down the hall, and no matter how often Sammie lifted her head at a sound outside, Anna never came through the door. Food sat untouched in her bowl, and she drank only when thirst finally drove her to the water. Mostly, Sammie waited. She listened for the sounds she knew—the car, the door, Anna’s footsteps—and searched the air whenever something familiar drifted toward her. As the days passed, she began to wonder in the only way she knew how if Anna was ever coming back. Then, finally, a familiar sound reached her ears. Sammie was on her feet before the door even opened. Anna’s scent rushed in from outside, and Sammie’s entire body came alive. Her girl was home.

Years later, Anna came home smelling of tears because of someone named Tyler. Sammie had heard that name before, usually when Anna sounded happy. That day was different. Anna climbed onto the bed and buried her face in Sammie’s fur.

“He’s such an asshole.” Sammie licked the side of her face, tasting salt.

“I hate him.”

Sammie didn’t know what Tyler had done. She knew his name had once made Anna’s voice lighter and now Anna was crying. That was enough. She stayed pressed against her until the tears stopped, lifting her head every time Anna’s breathing hitched. Anna changed as the years passed. She became taller. Her voice changed. The smells in her hair and on her clothes changed again and again. Sometimes they were sweet. Sometimes they were so sharp that Sammie sneezed when Anna came near. None of it confused her. Beneath every new smell was the one Sammie had known from the beginning: Anna.

Then came the boxes. Sammie hated boxes. They made familiar things disappear, and every empty place left behind smelled wrong. Anna’s room emptied a little at a time. Strangers carried furniture through the front door. Familiar smells vanished from one place and appeared somewhere else. Dad and Anna moved quickly and talked constantly, and although Sammie understood little of what they were saying, she understood the change in their routines and the restless energy that filled the house. She followed Anna more closely as the rooms emptied. On their last night, Anna sat on the bare floor of her bedroom with her back against the wall and Sammie pressed against her side.

“I don’t want to move either.” Sammie rested her chin on Anna’s thigh.

“You don’t care, do you?” Her tail thumped against the floor at the sound of Anna’s voice.

Anna smiled and rubbed behind her ear. “You’ll be happy anywhere.”

Sammie closed her eyes beneath Anna’s hand. She knew that voice. Anna wasn’t happy, so Sammie pressed closer until her whole side rested against her. Sammie didn’t know what moving meant. She knew Anna. Where Anna went, Sammie went. That was how things were.

***

The new place smelled wrong. Sammie knew it before Dad stopped the truck. She had spent most of the ride stretched awkwardly across the back seat beside Anna, surrounded by familiar smells packed into unfamiliar places. Then the truck turned onto a narrow road shaded by old trees, and Sammie stood. Her mouth closed and her ears rose. She drew the outside air deeply through her nose, sorting through damp ground, leaves, old bark, small animals and something underneath all of it that made the fur along her shoulders begin to lift.

Anna looked over at her. “What’s wrong, girl?”

The house sat far back from the road behind a wide stretch of grass. Tall trees surrounded it, their thick roots breaking through the ground in crooked ridges. The house itself rose two stories high with dark windows and a long porch across the front. Nothing moved. Sammie sniffed again. Trees. Damp ground. Small animals. Old wood. People had been here recently. A woman stood beside a silver car in the driveway waiting for them. Beneath those ordinary smells, though, was something else. Something damp and deep and old that did not belong with the rest. Sammie couldn’t place it, and not knowing made the muscles along her back tighten. A low growl rolled through her chest.

“Sammie?”

Dad looked back at her. “What’s her problem?”

“I don’t know.”

The truck stopped. Anna opened the door, but Sammie backed away from it. The wrong smell was stronger with the door open, and every instinct told her to stay where the smells were familiar.

Anna laughed. “What are you doing, weirdo? Come on.”

Anna climbed out, so Sammie followed immediately. Whatever was wrong with this place, Anna wasn’t walking toward it alone. Sammie stayed close enough that her shoulder brushed Anna’s leg as they approached the woman waiting for them. She was tall, with dark skin and long braids gathered behind her head. Sammie smelled coffee on her and something cool and sharp that reminded her of the little leaves Dad sometimes had after eating.

“You made it.” The woman held out her hand to Dad. “Welcome home.”

Dad shook it. “Thanks, Renee. Still can’t believe we pulled this off.”

“Right place, right time.”

Renee looked down at Sammie. “Beautiful dog.”

“Usually friendlier,” Anna said.

“New place. She’s probably overwhelmed.”

A faint scratching came from inside the house. Sammie’s head snapped toward it before any of the people reacted. The sound came again, quicker this time, something hard dragging where nothing should have been moving, and she lunged toward the porch.

“Sammie!”

Anna caught her collar before she reached the steps. The fur along Sammie’s back lifted. Nothing stood on the porch. Nothing moved behind the windows, but something had moved inside. She could hear the faint settling sounds of the house and, underneath them, something quieter.

“Sammie, stop.”

Anna pulled gently against her collar. Sammie obeyed because Anna had asked, though every part of her wanted to go toward the sound. She did not stop growling. Renee looked toward the house. Something changed in her face for only a moment before she turned back to Dad and handed him the keys.

By late afternoon, familiar things had begun filling the unfamiliar rooms. Their couch was there. Anna’s blankets were there. Dad’s boots were beside the door. Their food smells drifted from the kitchen. Little by little, the house began to smell like her people, but the wrong smell remained underneath everything. Sammie could find it no matter where she went, faint in some rooms and stronger in others, threaded beneath the scents that should have made this place safe. She followed Anna from room to room. Every time Anna disappeared around a corner, Sammie followed. When Anna went upstairs, Sammie went upstairs. When Anna closed herself inside the small room where water rushed behind the door, Sammie sat directly outside it with her ears angled toward the hallway.

“Seriously?” Anna called through the door. “You’re being creepy.”

Sammie lay down and waited, but she didn’t relax. Downstairs, Dad and Renee stood near the front door. Their voices had become quieter, but Sammie heard them anyway.

“You got a minute?” Renee asked.

“Sure.”

Something in Renee’s voice had changed enough that Sammie lifted her head. “You know the papers mentioned the people who lived here before.”

“I do.”

“There’s something else I think you should know. It wasn’t hidden from you, but people around here talk, and I’d rather you hear what actually happened before one of the neighbors tells your family some exaggerated story.”

Dad was quiet for a moment. “What happened?”

Renee hesitated. “A family lived here years ago. Their son disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“He was twelve.”

“From the house?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Nobody knows. Police searched the house, the property, the woods. Everything. They never found him.”

Sammie understood only pieces of what they said. She knew the sound of Dad’s voice afterward, though. Worried. His scent had changed too, just slightly, carrying the same uneasiness Sammie had noticed when something was wrong but he didn’t want Anna to know. The door beside her opened, and Anna stepped out.

“Did you seriously sit here the whole time?”

Sammie stood and pressed her nose against Anna’s hand, reassured by the familiar smell of her skin. Downstairs, Renee continued.

“It’s one of the reasons the house sat for so long. People around here remember.”

“And that’s why we got it so cheap.”

“It’s part of it.”

Renee lowered her voice. “It happened a long time ago, Dave. I’m not telling you because I think there’s something wrong with the house. I just didn’t want Anna hearing about it from some kid at school and coming home terrified.”

Anna rubbed Sammie between the ears. “Come on. Let’s find something to eat.”

The scratching came again. Sammie’s head snapped toward the hallway. Anna looked too, but nothing was there. Another scratch followed from inside the wall. Sammie barked, making Anna jump.

“Jesus, Sammie!”

Sammie rushed into the hallway and shoved her nose against the bottom of the wall. Dust. Wood. Old paint. Something small had passed through recently, leaving behind a scent she couldn’t match to any animal she knew. Beneath it was the smell she already hated—damp, old, wrong. Something moved on the other side, and Sammie followed, her nose dragging along the wall as the scratching raced ahead of her. When it stopped, she stopped so quickly her claws scraped against the floor.

Anna stood several feet behind her. “What the hell?”

Sammie pressed her nose against the wall and inhaled. For a moment there was nothing. Then warm air touched her nose through the narrow space beneath the wood. It carried that same foul, unfamiliar scent directly into her nostrils. Sammie jerked backward, lips lifting from her teeth. Something on the other side had breathed on her.

***

The sounds continued over the next several days. Sammie heard them while Dad and Anna were opening boxes and carrying things from room to room, and she heard them after everyone had gone to sleep, when the house was quiet enough that every unfamiliar sound stood apart. A scrape inside the wall. Quick feet overhead. Something beneath the floor that stopped whenever Sammie approached. Sometimes her ears caught movement Anna and Dad never noticed at all, and Sammie would stand staring at a wall while the people continued whatever they were doing. Dad heard some of it too.

“Mice,” he said one afternoon after Sammie spent several minutes staring beneath the kitchen cupboards.

Anna crouched beside her. “Those would have to be some pretty big mice.”

“Old house. Could be squirrels.”

Dad sighed when Sammie moved closer to the wall. “Please don’t let her eat through this one too.”

Anna rubbed Sammie’s neck. “She knows something’s in there.”

“Yeah. A rodent.”

Sammie knew mice. She knew squirrels. She knew the small animals that ran through yards and the things that sometimes hid beneath porches and sheds. She knew the quick hot scent of a mouse and the musky trail of something larger. She knew the soft scratch of claws and the sudden stillness of prey hiding nearby. Whatever lived inside this house was not one of them.

On the fourth night, Sammie woke beside Anna’s bed with her ears already raised. She didn’t know what had awakened her. Her body had known before the rest of her. Anna slept above her, one arm hanging over the side of the mattress, her breathing slow and familiar. The scratching came from farther down the hall. Sammie stood silently and stepped into the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs, two small points of reflected light stared back at her. They were too low and too still. A growl vibrated through her chest.

Anna stirred behind her. “Sammie?”

The eyes disappeared. Sammie charged down the stairs. Her claws struck the floor hard enough to wake Dad. A light came on as she reached the bottom and stopped, growling toward the empty doorway ahead. The smell lingered there.

Dad appeared on the stairs. “What the hell are you doing?”

Sammie didn’t look at him. The smell was here, stronger than before, and somewhere beyond the doorway something shifted softly.

“Sammie. Enough.” She moved forward.

“Sammie.”

His hand reached for her collar. Sammie spun before she realized who had touched her, her teeth flashing on instinct, and Dad jerked backward.

“Hey!”

Sammie froze. The familiar smell of Dad cut through everything else. She hadn’t tried to bite him. She would never bite Dad. Her ears flattened immediately, and she lowered her head. His face changed anyway, and she knew from his voice and body that she had done something wrong. Anna appeared at the top of the stairs.

“What happened?”

“Your dog almost bit me.”

“She wouldn’t bite you.”

“She damn near did.”

Anna hurried downstairs, and Sammie immediately pressed against her legs, breathing in her scent and placing herself between Anna and the doorway without thinking about it. Dad stared at them. “See? This. She’s been acting insane since we got here.”

“She’s scared.”

“She’s a German Shepherd, Anna. I can’t have her snapping at people.”

“She didn’t snap at me.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Something moved behind Dad. A small grey hand curled slowly around the edge of the doorway. Five long fingers wrapped around the wood. Sammie’s ears shot forward, and her lips pulled back from her teeth. The hand disappeared, and Sammie exploded forward.

“Sammie!”

She tore past Dad and slammed her shoulder against the doorway. Nothing was there, but the smell was fresh enough to burn in her nose. She raced through the kitchen, following it before the trail could disappear, and caught it again near the pantry. Sammie followed it to the wall beside the shelves and scratched. Paint broke beneath her claws.

“Sammie!”

She scratched harder. Something shrieked from inside the wall. The sound was high and furious, nothing like any mouse or squirrel Sammie had ever heard. She barked furiously and dug at the same place until Dad grabbed her collar and hauled her backward.

“Enough!”

Sammie twisted desperately. Tiny Hands was there. She had seen those fingers watching from the doorway. Now she could smell the same thing inside the wall, too close to Anna, and every instinct in her body screamed to get at it.

“Dad, stop! You’re hurting her!”

“Then get the leash.”

Anna stared at him. “What?”

“She’s going outside.”

“No!”

“Anna.”

“She’s scared!”

“So am I! She almost bit me, and now she’s tearing the wall apart.”

Anna wrapped both arms around Sammie’s neck. Sammie stopped fighting the instant Anna’s face pressed into her fur. Anna’s fear and distress were sharp in her nose. Sammie turned and licked her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Anna whispered. Then Dad clipped on the leash.

***

The doghouse had moved with them, and Sammie liked that because it smelled like their old yard, like sun-warmed wood and dirt and days when Anna had sat outside with her. The long tether attached beside it was something else entirely. She paced until the grass beneath her feet flattened, repeatedly stopping to stare at the house or lift her nose toward the windows. From where she stood, she could see Anna’s bedroom window. Anna stayed outside with her until the sky began to darken. She sat in the grass with her back against the doghouse while Sammie lay beside her, close enough to feel Anna’s warmth.

“You’re being an asshole, you know.”

Sammie’s ears lowered at the tone even though Anna’s hand was still resting against her. Anna sighed and scratched beneath her chin. “I don’t mean it. I know you hate it here.” Sammie stared at the house, nostrils working.

“Me too.”

Anna leaned against her, and for a while they watched the house together. Sammie listened to the sounds inside the walls while Anna picked absently at the grass. Twice she heard the faint scratching, but it remained far away. She stayed pressed against Anna until Dad called from inside.

“Anna!”

“I have to go.”

Anna stood, and Sammie immediately rose with her. She followed until the tether pulled tight, then stopped and whined, ears pushing forward as Anna kept walking.

Anna turned back. “It’s only for tonight. Dad will calm down.”

Sammie pulled against the tether. She wanted Anna back within reach.

Anna came back and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, weirdo.”

Sammie pushed her muzzle briefly against Anna before she went inside. She watched the door close and listened to Anna’s footsteps move through the house until she could no longer separate them from the sounds inside. Darkness settled slowly over the yard, and the house changed with it. Its windows became black squares between the trees. Sounds that had been small during the day became louder in the stillness. Sammie heard insects in the grass, something small moving near the trees, leaves rubbing together overhead, and beneath all of it the occasional faint sound from the house. She listened to every one of them and did not sleep.

Eventually Anna’s bedroom light went dark. Sammie remained facing the window until a scratching sound lifted her head. Her nose searched the air and caught the smell she had learned to hate—wet stone, rotten leaves, that old wrongness that lived beneath everything in the house. Her body stiffened before the curtain at Anna’s window moved. Sammie froze. It moved again, and a small hand appeared against the glass. Tiny Hands. Sammie barked. The hand vanished, and she lunged toward the house, but the tether snapped tight against her collar and threw her sideways. She scrambled upright as the curtain shifted again. Two hands appeared this time, pressed against the glass from inside Anna’s room.

Sammie threw herself against the tether. Lights came on downstairs, and she barked harder, pulling toward the window until the collar dug painfully into her throat. She could smell her own panic now, feel her heart hammering as the back door opened.

“Sammie!”

Dad crossed the yard toward her. Sammie lunged toward Anna’s window again.

“Stop!”

The hands disappeared. Dad looked toward the house but saw only the dark window.

“You’re going to wake everyone around here.” Sammie pulled desperately toward the house, whining between barks.

“Enough!”

Dad shortened the tether, clipping Sammie closer to the doghouse. Sammie barked directly into his face, startling him.

“For God’s sake.”

He went back inside. Sammie stared at Anna’s window while the lights disappeared again. Nothing moved. She listened so hard that the sounds of the yard seemed to fall away. Then Anna’s fear reached her, faint but unmistakable, drifting from the house. Sammie surged forward so violently that the tether nearly pulled her feet from beneath her. Something thumped inside. Another sound followed from upstairs. Anna. Sammie seized the tether between her teeth and pulled. She chewed frantically, twisting the thick material and bracing her paws against the ground, but it refused to break.

Inside the house, Anna screamed. Sammie threw herself against the tether, barking until her throat hurt. Lights came on. Dad shouted. Footsteps pounded upstairs. Sammie kept pulling, digging deep grooves into the dirt with her claws, unable to reach the one person she had always been able to reach. Then everything went quiet. The front door flew open.

“ANNA!”

Dad ran into the yard, shouting her name as he rushed toward the road before turning back toward the house. Sammie stopped fighting the tether long enough to lower her nose. Anna’s scent covered the property in old trails, but fear had left a fresh one. Sammie drew it in, sorting it from Dad, the yard, the strangers who had been there earlier and the wrong smell beneath them all. Anna’s trail led toward the house.

***

By morning, strangers had filled the rooms and yard. Strange cars flashed lights across the house while people searched Anna’s bedroom, the property, the road and the nearby trees. Some went beneath the house. Others opened closets and cupboards. They called Anna’s name again and again. Sammie watched them search, nose working whenever someone passed close enough to carry a new scent from inside. None of them brought Anna’s smell back with them. Anna was not where they were looking.

Dad eventually came outside and sat heavily on the porch steps. He covered his face with both hands. Sammie could smell that he had been crying before he looked toward her. She whined, and after a moment he raised his head.

“Where is she, girl?”

Sammie stood, ears forward. “You always know where she is.”

She pulled toward the house. Dad stared at her for a moment, but his head eventually dropped again. Sammie looked at the tether and began chewing. It took a long time. Whenever someone approached, she stopped. When they moved away, she started again. The thick material cut her gums and filled her mouth with a bitter taste. Her jaw began to ache, but she kept working the same place until something inside it finally gave. Sammie pulled, and the tether snapped.

She ran. Someone shouted behind her, but she ignored them. She raced through the open back door and into the kitchen, lowering her nose the moment her paws hit the floor. Too many strangers had walked through the house, covering Anna’s scent beneath boots and unfamiliar bodies, but Sammie knew her girl. She knew the smell of Anna frightened, sleeping, laughing, sick, crying and freshly home from a long day away. She separated that scent from everything else and followed it into the pantry. Boxes and food crowded the shelves. At the very back, partly hidden behind things that had been stacked in front of it during the move, was a short wooden door barely higher than Sammie’s shoulders. Someone had already opened it. The smells of several strangers clung to the frame and the dirt immediately beyond it. They had crawled inside and returned.

Sammie shoved her nose against the narrow gap beneath the door and inhaled. There. Anna. Faint, frightened, but hers. Sammie scratched frantically. The little door shifted. Whoever had searched the crawlspace had failed to fasten it completely, and Sammie pushed through. The space beneath the house was low enough that she had to lower her head. Dirt pressed beneath her paws, hard walls surrounded her, and the familiar parts of the house ran overhead. Human scents went only a short distance before turning back. Anna’s continued.

Sammie crawled farther, stopping only when she needed to lower her nose and find Anna again. The space narrowed until dirt pressed against her belly. The sounds of the house faded behind her, and the smells of her people slowly disappeared. Then she found a root, thick and wet beneath her nose. Another appeared farther ahead, then another. The hard wall beside her gradually became rough stone. The familiar things overhead disappeared. The earth grew colder beneath her paws, but Anna’s scent continued, so Sammie continued to follow it. The passage narrowed between two enormous roots. Sammie forced herself through, scraping her ribs against stone. For a moment she became wedged between them. Panic tightened her body, but Anna’s scent still came from ahead. Sammie kicked with her back legs and clawed forward until the earth suddenly disappeared beneath her front paws. She tumbled forward and landed hard.

When she pushed herself upright, the crawlspace was gone. Behind her was only a narrow black opening between roots and rock. Ahead, trees rose from stone. Enormous roots twisted across the ground and climbed walls that disappeared into darkness. Pale growths clung to the rocks, giving off a weak light over crooked trunks and pools of black water. Branches moved far above even though Sammie felt no wind. Somewhere in the distance, water rushed through the darkness, though the sound seemed to come from more than one direction. Sammie’s ears turned, trying to place it. Nothing smelled familiar. The air carried wet stone, old earth and too many strange living things. Then Sammie lifted her nose and found the one scent that mattered. Anna. She ran.

Something dropped from above beside the black water, and pain tore across Sammie’s shoulder. She yelped and spun, teeth already bared. For the first time, she saw all of Tiny Hands. It was about the size of a very small child, but it did not smell human. Its body was thin and bent strangely at the joints. Its arms were too long, and its fingers longer still. Grey-brown skin stretched over it like damp earth, and when its mouth opened, small dark teeth filled far too much of it. One hand held a jagged blade.

Blood ran through the fur on Sammie’s shoulder, hot against her skin. Tiny Hands chattered at her, and another answered from somewhere among the trees. Sammie’s ears turned toward the answering sound while her eyes stayed on the creature in front of her. She bared her teeth. The creature rushed her, and Sammie met it. Her jaws closed around its forearm. Its taste was foul, like dirt and old blood. Tiny Hands screamed as she shook it, but the blade struck her ribs once and then again. Sammie released the arm only to bite higher, clamping down with the full strength of her jaws before throwing the creature sideways. It struck the rocks.

Sammie ran. Anna was ahead. More Tiny Hands came. Sammie heard them before she saw them, nails or claws scraping against stone and roots. They darted through the trees and climbed rock with frightening speed. Some carried blades. Others threw sharp pieces of stone that struck the ground around Sammie. One leapt from a root and landed across her shoulders. Sammie spun, caught its leg and ripped it free. Another rushed her from the front. She lowered her body, drove into it with her shoulder and closed her jaws around its arm. A blade opened the skin along her hind leg, and another sliced the edge of her ear.

Pain was everywhere now, but Sammie fought her way forward. She knew how to use her body. She knew how to chase, turn, brace, pull and bite. She knew the strength in her shoulders and the crushing power of her jaws. Most of all, she knew Anna was ahead. Nothing was keeping her from Anna. Human smells began appearing among the wet stone and rotten leaves. Sammie passed a small shoe almost buried beneath dirt, faded cloth tangled around a root, and something hard with little rusted wheels. Farther on were small bones carrying only the faintest traces of old human scent. Sammie sniffed them once. They were not Anna, so she kept going. Her girl’s scent grew stronger, tangled now with fresh blood.

***

The trees opened around a vast hollow of stone. Sammie stopped so abruptly her injured hind leg nearly folded. Tiny Hands filled it. Dozens moved around a raised stone in the center. Little flames burned in bowls. Bones hung from cords overhead and clicked together whenever the air moved. Dark markings covered the ground. Beneath all the strange smells was Anna, and Sammie found her immediately.

Anna lay on the stone. Her wrists and ankles were tied. Dark streaks had been smeared across her face and arms. Her shirt was torn near one shoulder, and blood from a shallow cut ran into a bowl beside her. Sammie smelled it before she saw the red collecting there. One of the Tiny Hands dipped its fingers into Anna’s blood and smeared it across the stone. Another stood beside her holding a jagged blade. The others lowered themselves toward a huge black opening behind Anna.

Sammie did not understand the markings or the sounds they made. She understood Anna’s fear. She understood her blood. She understood the blade. Then a growl rolled from the opening, so deep Sammie felt it through her paws and chest. Her ears flattened. Tiny Hands dropped lower. Something moved in the darkness.

Two enormous hands reached out first. Long black claws scraped against the stone as the creature pulled itself forward. Thick arms followed, covered in patchy dark hide stretched over heavy muscle. Its head was too large for its shoulders, the face long and flattened beneath deep-set eyes. When its mouth opened, it seemed to split nearly to the sides of its head. Long uneven teeth filled it, saliva stretching between them. It dragged the rest of itself into the hollow. The creature was larger than Dad and had to crouch beneath the stone above it. Its front limbs were much longer than the ones behind, giving its body a terrible slope. Old scars crossed its hide. Pale bones hung around its neck. Its smell hit Sammie as it emerged—animal, blood, decay and something older beneath it. It sniffed, and its eyes found Anna.

Tiny Hands shrieked and bowed. The creature moved toward the stone. One of the Tiny Hands raised the blade above Anna. Sammie understood enough. They were going to hurt her girl, and the enormous thing was waiting for them to do it.

Anna’s eyes opened, and her head turned. “Sammie?”

Hearing her name in Anna’s voice erased everything except the distance between them. Sammie charged. She hit the first Tiny Hands before it could turn, driving it off its feet and into one of the burning bowls. Flames scattered across the stone, and the others rushed her. Sammie went through them. One jumped onto her back and drove a blade into the thick fur near her shoulder. Sammie twisted, caught its leg and ripped it free. Another stabbed toward her face. She caught its wrist in her jaws and shook until the blade fell.

Anna screamed her name. Sammie climbed onto the stone and bit at the binding around Anna’s wrist. The rope tasted of dirt, blood and the foul scent of Tiny Hands. She worked her teeth against it while hands grabbed at her hind legs. She kicked one away, turned and sank her teeth into another before returning to the rope.

“Come on, Sammie! Come on!”

The binding gave, and Anna pulled one hand free. The large creature reached the stone and brought its claw down. Sammie heard the rush of movement and jumped. The claws struck where she had been standing. Anna screamed. Sammie launched herself at the creature’s face. Her teeth caught the loose hide beside its jaw, filling her mouth with the creature’s bitter blood, and it reared back with a roar while Sammie held on. It struck her. Sammie flew across the stone and hit the ground hard enough that sound and scent vanished together for a moment.

“SAMMIE!”

Anna’s voice brought everything rushing back. Sammie smelled her fear before her vision fully cleared. The creature was reaching for her. Sammie forced herself up. Her legs shook beneath her, but she ran. The creature’s hand closed around Anna’s ankle. Anna screamed and kicked, and Sammie hit its arm with everything she had. Her teeth sank deep. It released Anna. A claw tore across Sammie’s side. She cried out but held on. The creature lifted its arm, taking her with it, and slammed her against the ground. Pain exploded through her. It slammed her down again, and Sammie’s jaws opened.

The creature turned back toward Anna. Sammie staggered upright, her ears ringing and one leg barely taking her weight. Anna had freed her other wrist and was tearing at the bindings around her ankles while Tiny Hands closed in around the stone. Sammie charged them. She knocked one away from Anna and caught another across the back. Anna kicked free and grabbed the jagged blade lying beside the bowl. The large creature lunged. Anna swung, and the blade cut across its reaching hand. It roared.

Sammie attacked the same arm. The creature caught her around the body and squeezed. Air left her lungs. Sammie twisted violently, snapping at its wrist while Anna’s terrified voice cut through the noise.

“LET HER GO!”

Anna drove the blade into its forearm. Its hand opened, and Sammie dropped, landing on all four paws before her injured leg buckled. She forced it beneath her again. The creature swung toward Anna, and Sammie threw herself between them. The claw caught her shoulder instead. Pain ripped through her body, and she hit the ground. The creature went after Anna. Sammie smelled Anna’s fear and got up. Her shoulder burned. Blood soaked her side and hind leg. One ear hung torn. Every breath hurt, but Anna was behind her. Sammie had stood between Anna and storms, strangers, bad dreams and every small thing she had ever understood as danger. This was only bigger.

She lowered her head and growled. The creature roared. Sammie charged. She drove into one of its front legs and bit down. When the claws came for her, she released and moved. She attacked from the other side, then moved again when it turned. The creature followed her. Sammie could hear Anna behind it, but the creature was no longer looking at her. It was looking at Sammie. That was what Sammie wanted.

Sammie attacked again. The creature lunged. She waited until the last instant and jumped. Her front paws struck its chest, and her jaws closed over its face. The creature screamed. Sammie bit harder and caught one of its eyes. It thrashed violently, trying to tear her away, but she held on, jaws locked despite the pain tearing through the rest of her body, until a claw ripped across her shoulder and threw her to the ground.

The creature staggered backward with one huge hand covering its face. Dark blood poured between its fingers. Tiny Hands stopped moving. Their smell changed so suddenly Sammie recognized it at once. Fear. The large creature roared at them, and Tiny Hands scattered. Anna grabbed Sammie around the neck. Sammie turned at her touch, and Anna’s scent—alive, frightened, hers—filled her nose.

“Come on!” They ran.

***

Anna stumbled more than once as they fled through the wrong forest. Each time she fell, Sammie stopped until she was moving again. Tiny Hands followed, though fewer now, and Sammie heard them scraping and chattering behind them. Whenever one came close enough to reach Anna, Sammie turned on it. Her body was failing. One back leg dragged. Blood soaked the fur along her shoulder and side, and every breath hurt. The smells around her blurred beneath blood and exhaustion, but she kept searching for the faint familiar trail that led home.

“Come on, baby. You can do it.”

Sammie kept moving because Anna was moving. “I’m right here.”

Anna’s voice stayed close, and Sammie used it whenever her nose filled with too much blood to find the trail. The familiar smells grew stronger until Sammie found the opening between the roots.

Anna dropped to her knees. “That’s it?”

Sammie pushed into the narrow passage. Scratching followed behind them.

Anna looked back. “Oh, hell no.”

She crawled after Sammie. The roots pressed tightly around them. Sammie pulled herself forward, following the growing smells of dirt, wood and home. A grey hand reached through behind Anna. Anna screamed and kicked, and Tiny Hands hissed. Sammie twisted around in the cramped passage and snapped at the reaching fingers until they disappeared, then shoved her nose against Anna’s leg to make her move again.

“Go, Sammie!”

They crawled faster. The strange stone became familiar dirt. The huge roots thinned. The hard walls beneath the house returned. Sammie smelled people. Home. Dad. Then she heard his voice.

“Anna!”

Anna began sobbing. “Dad!”

The little pantry door opened ahead, and light flooded the crawlspace. “Anna?”

“Dad!”

Anna crawled toward him. Dad reached inside, caught her beneath the arms and pulled her into the pantry. Sammie kept moving. Every part of her body wanted to stop, but she had to see Anna. She had to smell her with Dad and know that nothing still had hold of her. Her front paws reached the opening, and Anna dropped to her knees.

“Sammie. Come here, baby.”

Sammie dragged herself out of the crawlspace. Dad had Anna. His arms were around her. Anna was crying, shaking and bleeding, but her scent was here, warm and alive, wrapped in Dad’s familiar smell. Sammie drew one breath of both of them together. Anna was safe. She tried to take another step, and her legs folded beneath her. Anna caught her head before it struck the floor.

“Sammie?”

“Sammie!”

Hands moved over Sammie’s fur. Dad shouted toward the people still in the house. Anna pulled Sammie’s head into her lap, and even through the smell of her own blood, Sammie found Anna immediately.

“No. No, no, no. Sammie, look at me.”

Sammie tried. Her eyes opened only halfway, but Anna’s voice was close.

“You saved me.” Anna’s tears fell onto her muzzle. “You hear me? You saved me. So you’re not leaving me now.”

Sammie smelled Anna. She felt Anna’s hands around her face. Dad was holding her. Nothing strange was between them anymore. Sammie’s tail moved once against the floor, and then everything went dark.

***

The first thing Sammie smelled when she woke was Anna. Before the pain, before the strange room, before she opened her eyes, she knew Anna was there. Other smells came after that—strange animals, strange people, fear, sickness, and sharp clean smells that stung her nose. Her body hurt. Something wrapped her shoulder and side, and one leg felt heavy. She heard Anna shift beside her when she tried to lift her head.

“Sammie?”

Her tail moved before the rest of her could. Anna made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Oh my God.”

She leaned over Sammie carefully and touched her face with both hands. Sammie breathed her in. Anna still carried traces of the wrong place beneath all the familiar smells, but she was here. Dad stood behind her.

“She’s awake?”

Anna nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Sammie tried to stand because Anna was there and standing was what she did when Anna needed her. “Nope.” Anna gently stopped her. “Absolutely not. You already did enough.”

Sammie relaxed beneath her hands. Anna wasn’t afraid now. Sammie could hear it in her voice and feel it in the slow way her fingers moved through the fur along Sammie’s face. Dad crouched beside them and rested one hand against Sammie’s head.

“I’m sorry, girl.”

Sammie smelled tears on him. His hand was familiar, and whatever had been wrong between them at the old house was gone from his voice. She licked his wrist. Dad laughed softly and wiped his face. Anna looked at him.

“She knew.”

“I know.”

“She knew the whole time.”

Dad nodded. “I know.”

Sammie closed her eyes beneath Anna’s hand. The strange smells around her no longer mattered. Anna was here. That was enough.

***

They never slept in that house again. Sammie knew because Dad sometimes left and came back carrying its smell on his clothes along with things that belonged to them. Whenever he did, Sammie sniffed him carefully before looking toward the door to make sure nothing had followed. Anna never went with him, and neither did Sammie. Her body healed slowly. For a while, walking hurt. The fur along her side was missing where the deepest wounds had been closed, and one ear healed with a small notch that hadn’t been there before. Anna stayed beside her through all of it. She slept near her when Sammie hurt too much to climb onto the bed, helped her outside when one leg still refused to work properly, and talked to her during the long stretches when Sammie could do little except lie still and listen. Eventually the pain faded. Eventually Sammie could run again.

One night, in another house that smelled only of her people, Anna climbed into bed and patted the place beside her. “Come on.”

Sammie looked up at her but remained where she was. “You heard me.”

Sammie stood as Dad appeared in the doorway. “Anna, she has her own bed.”

Anna stared at him. Dad looked at Sammie, who waited beside the bed until he finally sighed.

“Fine.”

Anna smiled. “Come on, girl.”

Sammie climbed carefully onto the bed and settled beside her. Anna wrapped an arm around her, and Sammie rested her head against Anna’s chest. Something moved outside, and Sammie’s ears rose before she consciously listened. A branch shifted, followed by the soft movement of leaves beneath something small. She smelled the night air coming through the window and found nothing wrong in it. Still, she listened a little longer. Only when the sound moved away did she lower her head again. Anna’s breathing slowed beneath her. Sammie knew that breathing. She knew the rhythm of Anna’s footsteps before she entered a room, the different sounds of her laughter, the salt of her tears and the sharp scent of her fear. She had known them since Anna was small enough to fall backward beneath a German Shepherd puppy. Sammie lowered her head against her girl, but her ears remained turned toward the window.

Sammie would always be watching.