Hessian sniffed around the tree, circling it once. With a snort, he looked at me with a curious expression. His snout scrunched up and he let out a half-whine, half-growl.

"What is it?" I whispered.

Hessian began to lead me across the yard. His steps were painfully slow, but he still glanced back to see if I was still behind him. His change in demeanor put me on edge. My gut told me that Hessian wasn't just reacting to my state of mind. He knew something.

With nose on the ground, he lead me toward the incinerator, where the delinquents hang out. I prayed Osoro wasn't skipping today. This was not the time to deal with him. Besides, if I got upset, Hessian was liable to...well, kill someone. I probably should have waited until after school hours to do this… having a hellhound in a building full of teenagers is maybe the worst idea I've ever had.

Hessian led me to the cement wall that encircled the incinerator. Some of the delinquents were hanging out, not Osoro, but one of the two I had beaten and two others that I only knew in passing. The one I had beaten looked up as I passed, but I ignored him.

Hessian went to the black belly of the incinerator, sniffing around it and its interior. He paced in front of it a few times, then looked at me expectantly.

"What is it?" I asked softly, not wanting the punks to hear me talking to myself. Hessian shook his head, and paced a few more times in front of the furnace.

I entangled my hands into the fur at the ruff of Hessian's neck. I scratched him gently as a way of apologizing for being so dense.

"Hessian, I don't know what you're trying to tell me."

A small growl emanated from the back of Hessian's throat. He pulled his head out of my hands, and started sniffing around the furnace again.

What business did Osano have at the incinerator? More importantly, where did he go next? I peeked inside the incinerator for evidence of anything Osano might have burned. Even as I did, I knew it was useless. If it was paper, it would have been more or less vaporized in an industrial thing like this. Not that I know a lot about commercial incinerators, I just happen to read the max temperature on the side of the door: 850C. More than enough to destroy most anything a teenage boy might want gone.

Inside was nothing but a layer of soot and fine dust that made me cough. Hessian nudged my shoulder with his head, prompting me to turn around.

"What is it?" I asked. Hessian took two steps away, lowering his head until his nose almost touched the ground. I resisted the urge to repeat my question.

As I came close to his head, I realized he was pointing at something on the ground. I crouched down to take a look.

Hessian moved his head, and I saw four dark stains. Three were round splatters, like the liquid had dripped from a height. The last one was slightly smudged, like someone had stepped in it. I scratched the stain with my fingernail, coming up with a reddish brown powder.

With no regard for sanitary safety, I sniffed the power on my fingernail. Other than the smell of concrete, there was a rotted metallic smell that I knew better than I wanted to.

Blood.

I sat on my knees in shock, trying very hard not to jump to conclusions. Trying very, very hard. Anyone could have been bleeding next to the incinerator. Anyone, really.

"Where, Hessian? Where did he go next?" I asked. The hellhound didn't move; he just stared at me. "Hessian," I tried again, but he shook his head. Not like he usually does, like a dog shaking off water. It was a remarkably human act, a small movement right, then left.

"Hessian?" I whispered. What was he saying? I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it.

Hessian whimpered, putting his huge head on my shoulder. I fell back, a numbness creeping over me.

"No no, no, no." I muttered. "That can't be right. That can't, it just can't."


I haven't put an author's note for a while, but I just had to say; you know the game, so you know. But my friend who reads and reviews this for me first... She doesn't know.

And she's very attached to Osano.