SATURDAY

A pained yelp cut sharply through Chance's dreams. The big dog startled and leaped to his feet, forgetting that he was under a table and banging his head on it as he launched himself to his feet. For once it was a good thing that the floor was slick. Not quite awake, Chance had a growl ready in his throat, but his paws slipped from under him and he went down with a yelp. By the time he got to his feet, he was a little clearer headed and was able to see what had happened.

"Oh, Shadow, I'm sorry!" Tracy was saying, "What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be in Peter's room?"

Shadow was sitting at the foot of the stairs, one paw raised slightly. It was evident that Tracy had stepped on him. She was wearing tennis shoes, so it had hurt more than if she'd been in her bare feet. Shadow gazed up at her impassively, showing neither forgiveness nor resentment.

"I'm sorry, boy," she repeated, stroking the dog's head. Shadow did not respond.

After a moment, Tracy hurried past him and ran up the stairs.

"Somebody's in a hurry," Chance commented.

Shadow, who had been sniffing his foot to take stock of the damage, looked up suddenly.

"I don't see how she did it."

"I do," Sassy yawned, stretching, "You were at the bottom of the stairs, what did you expect to happen?"

"No, not that," Shadow said, looking up the stairs contemplatively, "I don't see how she got down the stairs without my noticing."

"Face it, pops," Chance said, brushing by Shadow on his way to the kitchen, "You're gettin' deaf."

Sassy pranced after the young dog, eager for her own share of breakfast. Already she could smell bacon frying, and she was hoping for a morsel of that in addition to her own cat food. Shadow, however, stayed at the stairs, looking uncertainly up at the second floor.

"Maybe," he muttered as though he hadn't noticed they were gone, "Maybe I am getting deaf. But why didn't you or Sassy notice either? What's your excuse?"

A few minutes later, Peter, Hope and Jamie came downstairs. Shadow followed them into the kitchen, where Chance and Sassy were already waiting.

"No run before breakfast?" Peter asked the old dog.

Shadow made no move towards the door, so Peter shrugged and opened the cabinet where the animal food was kept. Sassy was already on the little kitchen table which had been set up for her so that she would be out of easy reach of Chance while she was eating. Once he got started, Chance had a bad habit of continuing to eat until there wasn't an edible morsel left in sight, including morsels not meant for him.

Peter put Shadow's food down first, before helping Jamie with Chance's. Hope fed Sassy independently. Usually Chance was the first to finish, but this morning Shadow left his food half uneaten, going to the back door and barking to be let out.

"What's wrong, boy?" Peter asked, going to the dog's side, "Don't you want your breakfast?"

Shadow looked at the door and barked again. Peter shrugged and opened the door to let him out. Chance, having inhaled his own food, quickly dispatched what Shadow had left, before galloping over to the door to be let out. Sassy, meanwhile, daintily ate her own meal, then sat herself down for a good grooming.

Chance started to bound outside, then stopped halfway through as the smell hit him. Or smells, rather. All the different smells, of all the animals which had gone through here. Their utter terror at whatever had driven them in this manner.

Jim, who had opened the door for him, said, "In or out, boy."

Chance inched his way out, and the door closed behind him. But he went no further than absolutely necessary. Instead he set to trembling where he stood, then sat down and began to pant heavily. The smell of fear was overwhelming. And it was everywhere. In multiple varieties. It seemed like every kind of animal imaginable had run by here, fleeing in abject terror from that thing in the woods.

It never entered Chance's head that it could be anything other than the... whatever it was. Nothing else in the world could possibly cause this, he thought. Then again, until yesterday, he hadn't know there was a creature on earth which could drive a dog into a frenzy of fear with only its smell. It took him a bit to steel himself against the onslaught of odors, and then he went looking for Shadow. The dark gold dog was sniffing around the edge of the yard, his tail out stiff behind him.

"What's going on around here?" Chance asked, "Why is this happening?"

"Calm down," Shadow snapped irritably, "The important question is what are we going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" Chance inquired.

Shadow, without answering or raising his head, trotted off towards the woods, tail high, signaling that he had found some kind of scent and was following it. Chance went with him reluctantly, but did not investigate to see what trail Shadow was following. The woods seemed unusually dark and forbidding. The deeper they went, the slower Chance walked. Shadow took no notice of him, consumed with what he was doing.

Suddenly Shadow stopped. Chance didn't have to ask why. They had stepped into a clearing that... well... hadn't been a clearing before. A tree had been uprooted, two more slashed and torn until they had fallen onto their sides, into the embrace of their brethren. Saplings had been crushed and trampled, forming a circle with torn earth at its center. There were dark splashes on the broken leaves of the saplings, something black was oozing from the trunks of the trees. Chance gave it a whiff and whined, moving away as though bitten. It was blood. Here from a mouse, there from a bird, over there from a snake.

Shadow's lips had curled back, not so much in a snarl as a reaction to the smell. Death in itself was no upsetting thing to a dog. Chance frequently rolled in dead things, and even Shadow was not above it. But this was different. There was something... wrong in this death scent.

"What happened here?" Chance asked, though he feared he already knew.

"The creature was marking its territory. In destruction, in blood, in scent. Claiming the woods for itself," Shadow replied in a low voice.

"Oh? Well... well... let it have the woods!" Chance exclaimed, "We don't need woods, we can just... just not go here anymore, right?"

"No," Shadow's voice was almost a growl, "It's too close to home. We can't let it stay, Chance. If we did, it would eventually get Peter, or Jamie... or Hope. Maybe Sassy. No, Chance, we have to do something about it, and quickly."

"Do? Like what? Shadow, hold up!"

But Shadow was already marching back to the house. He paused now and then to look at the ground, or perhaps scent it. Chance avoided it, because he already knew what tracks he would find there. The sneaker print wasn't an isolated occurrence. Whatever this thing was... it wore shoes.

Shadow halted just beyond the edge of the yard. His head came up and he looked across at the house, then over his shoulder at Chance.

"It came this far. Then stopped," Shadow sniffed about some more, "But why?"

"Well maybe because I keep the territory markers fresh," Chance theorized, "That's what they're for, after all, to warn off intruders."

"This thing has frightened the entire forest out of its wits and you think that you, of all things, are its weakness? You think this thing fears dogs?" Shadow snorted.

"It could happen," Chance retorted defensively, then added more thoughtfully, "Maybe it has a fear of open spaces."

Shadow didn't dignify this suggestion with a response. Besides, if he shot down all of Chance's theories, he would eventually have to admit that he had no clue why the creature had halted beyond the borders of the Seaver property. Chance had to know that Shadow was as much in the dark as he was, but knowing in your heart and being forced to face it are two different things.

"Can you find the trail?" Shadow asked, changing the subject.

Chance snuffled around, eager to prove his talents before the old dog. He'd tracked so many rabbits that this ought to be a snap. But, try as he might, he could find nothing but the trail they had already followed. The one which led here.

"Where'd it go?" he wanted to know.

"I don't know," Shadow admitted, "It may have doubled back. Or maybe..." he looked up.

"Maybe what?" Chance demanded, but Shadow ignored him so he repeated it, only louder, "Maybe what!?"

Just then, something dripped on his nose from above. With a startled yelp, he dodged sideways and looked up, at which point his legs went rubbery and he dropped into a crouch.

There, up in the tree branches, was a body. It was too high up to recognize what kind of body, exactly, but it was big. Heavier than a deer, anyway. The branches were leaning, the wood groaning beneath the unwanted weight of the body. Blood coated the branches almost to the trunk, and there was a small pool of it on the ground next to where Chance had been standing.

"That's like... high... uh... like.. as tall as our house, high," Chance gulped.

What could drag dead weight, especially so much, that high up? A leopard, perhaps. But the Seavers didn't live in Africa, and neither of the dogs knew anything of leopards. They'd never heard of anything which could do that. Aside from which, a leopard probably couldn't have carried it up that high, not straight up.

"Hold still," Shadow had noticed the drop of blood on Chance's face.

"What? Why?" But Chance held still, even though Shadow didn't answer him.

Shadow's warm breath blew across his face and the old dog's whiskers tickled at his nose, and Chance fought the impulse to sneeze. Then the golden head withdrew sharply, and a growl accompanied the motion. Startled, Chance barked defensively. It had been instinctive. He knew Shadow wouldn't hurt him, but the sound which had come from the old dog made him question that knowledge, and he reacted.

"What? What's on my face?" Chance demanded, tossing his head as though, if he moved fast enough, he'd be able to look at his muzzle, "What is it!?"

"Nothing," Shadow's word was honest, but his voice betrayed the lie, "Just forget about it."

Without waiting to see if Chance had believed him, Shadow trotted into the yard and towards the house. Watching, it seemed to Chance as if the dog's tail was carried a little bit lower, and his movement seemed off, as if his body had become too heavy for his legs.

Meekly, Chance followed him, looking over his shoulder, but avoiding looking up at the tree, or taking too deep a breath with his nose, for fear he'd smell what was on it. Whatever it was, he probably didn't want to know about it.

Shadow lay down on the back porch, his eyes deeply contemplative. Chance decided to leave him alone. He scratched at the door to get in. He found that the family hadn't yet finished breakfast. Normally this would have thrilled him and he would have spent the meal begging for scraps, pacing around the table, going from person to person and employing a combination of "sad puppy dog eyes" and "I don't want it" moves. Jamie was a sucker for it, and so was Uncle Jim.

But today Chance observed the meal from a corner, feeling as though he were looking through frosted glass at a life which was no longer his own. Because of the bad thing in the woods, he could no longer be the carefree and exuberant dog he was accustomed to being. Until it was gone, he must be vigilant, prepared to fight it off at any moment. He had to keep his focus, and save his energy for what was important. Ever ready, as Shadow was, to do whatever was needed. To bark and warn of danger, to growl and try to drive said danger away. And yes, even to fight, should that be needed. Chance didn't know how to do that. Not really. In spite of all his bravado, he'd never hurt another animal in his life, except for the fish Sassy caught for him, and things like that.

He'd never had to really fight directly, in spite of his heritage as a bulldog.

But he knew, without Shadow's having to tell him, that a fight was inevitable. The thing would try to come, it would come to hunt and kill. And when it did, Chance would be ready and waiting for it. Because it could not be allowed into the house, no matter what the cost.

At stake was the life of Jamie, Chance's boy, whom he loved more than he'd ever realized was possible. He couldn't let the bad thing take that away from him. It could not be permitted to happen.

Yes, he would bite if he had to. But it was more than that, it went even deeper. He knew that it could cost him his life. Not his life with this family, but his life life. That thing out there, it had the power to rip a dog in half. Nobody had to tell Chance that, he just knew. His only hope was that Shadow had some kind of plan, a way of dealing with the thing out there, of making it go away. Or, perhaps a plan to kill it. Chance wasn't above killing to survive. No animal in the world is.

What Chance had just discovered, Shadow had known all along. His whole life, in fact. He had been prepared to lay down his life for Peter's since before he really knew what that meant. It only grieved him that it had happened so late. Shadow feared only that he might not be strong enough to protect Peter. But his age did give him one crucial advantage. Shadow knew those woods, and this house. He'd been given the run of both many years ago, and had broken no rules, either nature's or man's, knowing that it was a privilege to know such freedom. He knew every bush and tree of the forest, every nail and board of the house.

More than that, he had gained wisdom over his lifetime. There were memories stored deep within, and each one held a lesson learned. Experience is the greatest teacher, and the effort had not been wasted on Shadow. That wisdom came at a terrible cost, however. Shadow knew better than any what was out there, waiting in the woods.

His sixth sense told him. Even as he lacked a name for it, he knew its scent, its face, and its purpose. He knew its strength, its speed, its natural weaponry. His knowledge was more than just a feeling. The picture of the creature in his head was enough to send shudders down his spine. And it wasn't just mindless, either. It possessed cunning, perhaps surpassing his own. Of that, he was very much afraid.