The woods were silent. Not a sound came from the ominous trees as Boone made his way through the underbrush searching for the source of the sound. He ran a hand over the hilt of the Bowie knife, ready to draw it and strike if need be. Silent minutes passed, and soon Boone's hand began to relax on the hilt.
Then the rustling returned.
Boone spun around, brandishing the knife. The rustling started behind him, and ran in a dizzying circle around him. The crunching grew louder as the spirals closed in on him, surrounding him. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the circles stopped. Boone drew his knife up, slowly, and readied his stance.
From the woods burst a large yellow shape, fur flying and mouth open. It bounded up to Boone and knocked him over. Boone was sure that he was dead, attacked by a polar bear and soon to become lunch. Then the creature began licking his face. Boone opened his eyes.
It was not a polar bear, after all. It was Walt's lab, Vincent.
"Hey, boy," Boone laughed, and the dog panted, his doggy breath hot on Boone's nervously cold face. Boone rubbed the dog behind the ears and stood. The dog barked at him. "What is it?" he asked.
The dog barked again and then disappeared into the woods.
"Come back, boy!" Boone called, and began following the dog.