The Black Dog
Delphine's deep bark stood the hair up on my arms. I still couldn't see the bear, but I could begin to smell it. I faced the direction Delphine faced, hoping and worrying. Then I heard another bark.
A massive black dog ran to my other side, mimicking Delphine's stance. She didn't challenge him—she nearly didn't react. I felt my attention wandering and snapped it back to the bear. I still couldn't see it.
We faced a line of young trees with slender trunks and low branches. They were perfect climbing territory for a bear. Delphine began to edge in front of me, forming a wall with her side. The black dog edged over behind her. I angled my steps behind them, recognizing the way Delphine guided the sheep away from treed bears.
We walked that way for some time; the dogs stayed on my right with Delphine in the lead, and I walked nervously on the left. As we neared the lights of town I could feel my hands begin to shake in my pockets. The dogs' ears started to relax, and I noticed a change in Delphine's gait. She was no longer on full alert. The black dog fell back as we entered town, then wandered off into an alley. I turned back for a while, but knew better than to go looking. Any dog stubborn enough to take on a bear is a dog I don't want to cross.
Delphine seemed to agree. She walked on toward the bar without looking back, and headed straight for the hearth once we arrived. I plowed into my dinner at a table near her, wondering absentmindedly how there was a dog in town I hadn't known as a puppy.
The heavy scrape of chair legs took my attention from my meal. There he was, making himself at home. I peered at him openly, confused and annoyed. In the more even light of the seating area I could see he wasn't as old as I'd thought. His face was deeply lined, but young enough for the dark head of long hair he had. His eyes were much keener as he looked back at me. So he's sober.
"Going to hex me?" He asked quietly, a teasing grin in his voice.
"Don't act crazy." I answered quickly.
"Hiding, eh?" He said too loudly.
"What do you want?" I snapped, too aware that Brooks had already trained his attention on the strange man at my table. "You can be heard here."
"I need to talk to you." He said. His eyes creased at the corners with suppressed mirth.
"I'm sure you don't." I said, turning back to my meal.
"And I'm sure I do." He returned calmly. We sat in silence as I finished my dinner. I patted my thigh to call Delphine, and rose to put my coat back on. He stood as well, a mild look on his face. I glared at him.
"Good night," I said tensely, unsure what I'd do if he decided to follow me from the table.
"I don't think so." He said, his voice still placid. I turned away from him and motioned to Delphine, who followed me into the night. I heard someone leave the bar behind me and I tensed, sure I'd have to have it out with the man. I fingered my wand, annoyed. I'd wrapped my fingertips in the long fur on Delphine's head as I walked slowly to the edge of town, so I immediately felt her change direction.
"Stupid bear," I grumbled, thinking I'd have to worry my way past the treed bear again on the walk home. But Delphine didn't bark. She walked a few steps in front of me and shot her forelegs out in front of her, her mouth hanging open.
"There's nothing out there to play with, crazy dog," I muttered, staring pointlessly into the darkness. I couldn't see a thing. Delphine darted to the side and crouched again. The big black dog came barreling out of the night in front of us, twisting and jumping with Delphine. I laughed at my former tension and stood for a while at the edge of the town's lights. The two dogs barked and ran until their tongues hung nearly to their knees.
"All right, Delphine." I said, finally motivated to finish my walk home. The day's work had settled in my shoulders, and I was ready to sleep. "Let's go home." Delphine reluctantly came to walk next to me. She kept darting glances back to the black dog; he walked a distance from us but kept pace. We continued like that for some of the distance, but it was clear enough to me that the dog was following us home. I started talking to him.
"All right, boy. No need to be shy." I patted my leg and clicked my tongue a few times. "Come on, now. You'll cut your pads on those rocks off the trail." The dog ranged closer in. "That's right," I soothed, clicking my tongue again. The dog pulled closer still. By the time we neared the enclosure the dog had joined us on the trail.
I pulled my wand out of my coat pocket and deactivated some of my precautionary spells. I opened the pen for Delphine, but I wasn't truly surprised when the black dog didn't enter. I knelt to him, holding out my hand. "Well, boy? Have you eaten yet?" He nosed toward me with a degree of trust I've only seen is domestic dogs. "You're somebody's baby; I can tell." He sniffed at my mitten, then backed up and sat. "Nice manners," I smiled. I grabbed a scoop of dog food and headed toward the house, urging the dog to follow me.
He walked into my cabin without hesitation, and surprised me by sitting just inside the door. Most dogs either go for the fire or follow the food. I brought the light levels up to get a better look at him. "Come here, baby," I urged, sitting on the floor. He sat still. "Now, don't get shy now that you're here." I held my hand out. He stood and walked close enough to put his muzzle in my hand. I looked closely at his face.
"Not too many scars," I thought aloud. "Not too many run-ins with the bears and wolves, I guess." The dog turned his face sideways in my hand and shot a puff of air out his nostrils. "All right, I'll leave you alone." I took my hand away and stood. He walked beside me as I placed a dish of food on the floor.
I smothered a yawn as I stood. I wandered to the wardrobe and pulled out some long johns, which I threw on the bed in the corner. I saw the dog bend to the food as I started pulling off layers of clothes. By the time I was dressed for bed and had tossed my clothes in the laundry, the dog had finished and was sitting stiffly with his back to me. I watched him for a moment, amused.
"You're a pretty weird dog, you know that?" I said, walking toward him. He turned his face to me once I was close. "Were you hiding your eyes?" The dog turned his face away from me, resuming his stiff posture. I laughed. "Oh come on," I said, crouching to his level and stretching my hand out. "We're still friends, right?" His tail smacked the floor a few times, and he nosed my hand. "Okay, then," I concluded.
The next morning my alarm went off with its usual torrent of abuse. It had been a joke gift at school, and I'd become so used to it that muggle alarm clocks never quite did the job. I slapped at it blindly, still mostly asleep. I was understandably shocked when another hand joined me in fumbling with the alarm.
I screamed, bolted out of bed, and grasped at my wand. This turned out to be pointless, as the hand had grabbed my wrist so tightly I could barely hold a grip. I twisted to face the hand's owner. The drunk. A parade of curses marched through my mind, but all that came out my mouth was a tiny choked sound.
"I'll take that," he said, taking my wand and setting it down out of my reach.
"What do you want?" I asked, surprised how weary my voice sounded.
"I need to talk to you," he said, releasing my wrist but standing between me and my wand. I darted my eyes around. The doors and windows were still shut. My brain stuttered, trying to work it out.
"Then talk." I said, moving from confusion to annoyance.
"I know you're a witch," he began, "and I need to contact some wizards in London."
"So send an owl." I interrupted.
"No," he said calmly. "I'm going to send you."
"What?" I blurted, my annoyance blooming into anger.
"You're going to go to London and deliver a message to some friends of mine. You're going to do that, come back here, and allow me to alter your memory." He rattled the plan off like a grocery list, with no regard for the life-changing aspects of it.
"The hell I am." I said firmly.
"You will." He said, stepping closer to me. "You can choose to do it, or I can force you. But you'll do it."
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