Chapter Four

Sharp branches and stones tore at his bare feet as he ran through the woods, arms up as he tried desperately to protect his face. Branches lashed against his as he ran. Thorny shrubs grabbed and ripped his skin. The scents of bruised leaves and wet earth mixed with blood from his body.

A large, hollow log gave him a place to pause for a second, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Water tinkled off to his left, and he crawled out of the log, running towards the small creek. It told him how far into the woods he'd run.

A chilling howl close – too close- behind him drove him forward, heedless of anything but the blind, naked fear of what was coming from him. A stone turned under his foot, pitching him headlong into the steep ravine.

Pain roared through his body as rocks slammed against him. He landed with a thump in the sludgy water, limbs trembling with exhaustion. A pebble bounced down the ravine.

He sucked in a breath that burned in his lungs and looked to see pearl-white teeth and eye like glowing embers as the hound launched itself at him. The animal's weight bore him backwards, trapping him in the water as teeth closed on his neck...

He gasped, eyes flying open. His pulse beat hard in the hollow of his throat. The pale rose light of dawn lit the room well enough for his darting gaze to check every corner, every shadow until he remembered where he was.

Well, shit, he though, pulse slowing. His mouth twisted sourly as he thought of the dog in his dream. That old nightmare finally got a new twist.

His racing heartbeat started to slow. He tossed the sweat-dampened sheets away from his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The polished wooden floor was cool on his feet as he walked stiffly towards the small bathroom, flipping the light on as he passed the switch.

A long mirror took up one wall of the bathroom. He paused in front of it, studying the pattern of claw marks and bruises on his skin. A raised red line scored his neck where the dog's teeth had scraped away layers of skin.

Impulsively, he worked a nail under the tape on his shoulder and removed the bulky dressing, leaning forward to examine the damage. The dark sutures stood out against his raw skin. A few of the wounds had beads of dry blood on them. He grunted and recovered his shoulder. Damn lucky this time, he thought, eyes drifting down to the bandages on his arm.

He grabbed a clean washcloth and wet it under the hot tap, briskly washing his face. A knock on the door caught his attention. He let the washcloth drop back into the sink and headed towards the door.

"Raylan? You awake?" Art asked through the door.

"I am." Raylan answered and pulled the door open. "Thanks for..."

Art waved the thanks away. "Do I have to remind you how much paperwork I'd have if you'd bled to death in your hotel room?"

A wan smile quirked Raylan's mouth. "I know, I know."

"We're having breakfast. You gonna join us?" Art asked. "My wife cooks a mean pancake."

Raylan nodded. "Let me just grab a shirt."

He ducked back into the room, searching through the bag Art had brought for him. A pale blue t-shirt tangled on his hand, and he pulled it out, slipping it over his head with a pained grunt.

Art leaned against the doorway, watching the younger man. "You've got a couple of week's sick leave coming. We'll fill out the paperwork today at the office, then I want you to go home and rest."

Raylan nodded, already knowing it had been coming. "Sure you can manage without me?"

He walked towards the door, letting Art lead the way to the kitchen. "Oh, I think we'll manage."

The smell of cooking bacon and brewing coffee made Raylan's stomach rumble. He smiled at Art's wife.

"Morning, Ms. Mullen," he said politely.

"Please, sit, Raylan. Do you want coffee?"

He nodded and sat down opposite Art. "Please."

She poured him a cup of coffee, setting it down in front of him. "Art tells me you were attacked by a dog," she said, sliding a plate loaded with pancakes and bacon onto the table before taking her own seat.

They shared the pancakes out, eating in silence for a few moments. Raylan picked at his, eating a few bites before laying his fork down. He drank a mouthful of coffee, letting the bitter liquid chase the last of the sleep from his brain.

Art finished his breakfast, standing to deposit the plates into the sink. "Thanks, hon."

Raylan stood to join his boss at the door. Ms. Mullen caught hold of his good wrist. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

He smiled, ducking his head. "I will."