"Shadow wants me to do what now?" Chance yelped.
"You heard me," Sassy told him.
"Well he could have at least told me," Chance mumbled sulkily.
"He said this was plan B, Chance," Sassy flipped her tail irritably, "It's not his fault you're known for being destructive."
"Yeah well..." Chance trailed off, dropping his head onto his paws.
It didn't occur to him to ask what plan A had been. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a bit, before Sassy got up and made as if to go back in the house. Then she suddenly stopped and looked over her shoulder at Chance.
"You will be alright, won't you?"
"Who me?" Chance got to his feet and tried to look big and intimidating, "I'm not afraid of anything. I can take care of myself."
Sassy flipped her tail and hopped onto the porch railing and from there to a tree trunk. A few seconds later, she disappeared onto the roof and was gone.
"Yeah... sure I can," Chance sighed, dropping his head.
He lay down on the porch. In the nearby woods, there were some birds singing. On their way to migrating further south, and with no idea what stalked the forest by night. For once, the rustling of unseen animals did nothing to arouse in Chance the desire to run and chase. A rope toy out on the lawn didn't attract his attention, passing cars didn't bring out of him the wild desire to unleash a volley of barking. For once, it all seemed trivial. None of it mattered. None of it meant anything.
The wind in the trees whispered of the night to come, the indescribable horror of the creature who owned the darkness from the shadows. The sun seemed farther away than usual, its light was pale and brought little warmth. The ground was hard, nearly frozen, and all the world seemed just as cold and lifeless. As if the vile presence of the thing in the woods was sucking the life blood from everything, and not just the animals it had caught and torn open.
Chance was jerked roughly from his worried thoughts by the sound of the mail truck stopping in front of their house. Perhaps the toy could go unchewed and the woods unexplored, but Chance could not leave the mailman alone. It was his sacred duty as a watch dog to bark at and terrorize the mailman. Or at the very least, molest him until he sacrificed part of his lunch.
Chance leaped to his feet and galloped around the house. He was halfway up the drive when he suddenly stopped short. Dropping his head, he sniffed at the man leaning out of the truck to put the mail in the box. A low growl rose in the dog's throat. He'd never threatened a human before, not really. But this wasn't his mailman. And, right now, the dog was taking anything and everything out of the ordinary as a grave threat to the security of his home.
"Easy, big fella," the mailman said, his hand halfway to the box, "Just delivering the mail. Easy now."
But Chance wasn't about to take it easy. He leaped towards the truck with an imperious bark, legs stiff in front of him and lips curled back to show his teeth. Like most mail trucks, this one was open at the sides, with nothing to prevent Chance from jumping right in. So the mailman did the only thing he could think of. He put the truck in gear and floored it.
The wheels screeched and smoked, and the little truck bounced violently, hopping forward just as Chance reached it. Chance hit the ground on all fours, slipping only a little as he turned to pursue what had suddenly become his hated enemy – the mail truck.
"Chance! Chance, get back here!" Peter, having heard the commotion, ran out front and shouted at him.
But Chance either didn't hear, or refused to obey. Shadow, having come out with Peter, moaned quietly. Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, the old dog climbed down from the porch and took off after Chance at a ground-covering but relatively easy lope. He knew Chance couldn't chase the truck far at high speed. He'd catch up in good time, and bring the young dog back.
The mail truck, with the dog in hot pursuit, had made it almost to the end of the block before Shadow was in earshot. At this point, he began to bark. Chance heard, and listened. At the old dog's behest, he slowed and eventually stopped, then turned back towards home with head and tail down. Shadow continued after the mail truck, coming to stand in front of it, thereby forcing the driver to stop. Shadow wagged his tail and barked in a friendly way and then, after the mailman had looked around and realized he was no longer being pursued, set off for home at his slow trot.
"You realize the mailman comes everyday, don't you?" Shadow asked Chance once they were back at home, "And that our family is fully aware of it? Even approves?"
"Yeah, but that wasn't our mailman," Chance protested.
"Of course it wasn't," Shadow told him, "Our mailman is up a tree."
"You mean... you mean... yow!" Chance spun himself in a circle, "You coulda told me that was a person... a.. a human being up there in the tree!"
"Would it have made a difference?" Shadow asked.
Chance didn't reply, but his face took on a sheepish expression. Even if he'd known the regular mailman wasn't coming, he still probably would have chased the new one without thinking.
"If you'd wanted to know then, you would have used your nose," Shadow pointed out.
Chance hung his head still lower, knowing Shadow was right. Then a thought struck him.
"Wait... why is our mailman dead? I mean... they don't deliver mail at night, do they?"
"No," Shadow replied, "He wasn't killed at night. Whatever it was that got him, it got him in the middle of the afternoon, probably close to the end of his route."
"Mailmen have routes?" Chance wondered, but then refocused on the real issue, "So this thing isn't confined to nights and mornings... it's hunting during broad daylight too?"
"I told you, it's not an animal. It doesn't hunt by our rules," Shadow said almost sternly, "Or any rules."
"Then why are we worried about night falling?"
"It's more dangerous at night," Shadow told him, "It's stronger at night. A lot stronger."
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"The same way I know I'm a dog," the reply was cryptic to Chance, but he knew Shadow wasn't going to elaborate on that, at least not right now.
"Shadow, come on, boy!" Peter called from the porch.
Obediently, the old dog turned from Chance and went inside with Peter. Chance didn't try to follow. He had virtually forgotten that, as far as the humans were concerned, he was out here being punished. He had bigger things to worry about. Specifically, the coming night.
To calm his nerves, Chance went and found one of his favorite bones, which he'd buried in the sandbox not long ago. He dug it up and settled in to chew on it. Chewing always made him feel better. Sometimes he could chew until he fell asleep. But not today. Today even chewing didn't make the tense feeling leave, it didn't let his mind relax, or lull him into a sleepy state.
He chewed on the bone vigorously, time and again scraping his back teeth against the unyielding material, biting down hard, trying in vain to crack it. And all the while he kept his eyes glued to the forest. Now and then he had to pause and let the shudders take hold of him and run their course before he started chewing again.
The creature was no longer a potential threat to his family. It had killed a person. That was different from a cat or a dog, or a chicken or a rabbit. That was serious. Most predators had a preferred prey. Just because they hunted sheep, it didn't necessarily mean they were a man killer as well. But this one was. It would kill anything, including the Seaver family, given half a chance. And the humans were, as usual, completely and totally oblivious.
As usual, it was up to the animals to solve problems the people didn't even know existed. To protect the property from threats human beings seemed unable to comprehend. It was better that way. It was what made dogs dogs and people people. That basic difference in their awareness and understanding of the world. Chance knew that. Shadow had taught him that. Dogs didn't ask to be dogs, but dogs they were nonetheless. And being a dog came with certain responsibilities. This was one such responsibility.
And no amount of bone chewing would get him out of it. No amount of pacing would make what he had to do any easier. In spite of the danger, he didn't resent it. He didn't wish Shadow were in his place. In fact, he was almost looking forward to the coming night, with a sort of eager apprehension.
For tonight he was staying outside, not because he was being punished for that which he did not do. Tonight, he was staying out because Shadow had a plan. Tonight, Chance was going to find the creature, and follow it. Tonight, he was going to find out exactly what it was that was lurking in the dark, and he was going to follow it to its lair. And in the morning, he and Shadow were going to do whatever they had to in order to get rid of their unwanted neighbor.
They would either drive it away, or kill it. Whichever was easier.
At dusk, Chance left the porch and went to his dog house. He knew that wouldn't be much in the way of protection, but at least he wouldn't be out in the open. He didn't know why he felt safer in his dog house, but he did. In truth, it was because nothing could come at him from above or behind or either side. Whatever came, it would have to rush him straight on. He'd see it coming.
He stood for awhile, looking out at the darkening yard, gazing warily at the black forest beyond. Overhead, the sky turned first gray, then indigo, and the moon shone brilliantly down, casting a silver hue on the world far below.
When everything stayed quiet, Chance sat, and then eventually lay down. But he didn't sleep. He stayed on the alert, tense and vigilant. The moon crept higher into the sky, a few scattered black clouds scooting past it, as though afraid to get in its way for very long. The wind had picked up, and the soft whisper had become a sharp whistling through the ancient trees.
It was going to be a very long night.
The night grew deeper and ever more still save for the harshly blowing wind, which whistled and made the trees groan. But Chance held himself rigidly awake, resisting even the urge to yawn for fear of the noise he might make. He kept his eyes on the woods.
As it turned out, this was a mistake.