Dogs
One minute she was not there and the next she had dashed in among them, her dangling leash sailing through the air after her. Her silky coat rippled in the breeze and she had incredible ears, black and tall, shaped like butterfly wings. Her feathery tail curled up over her back one minute, streamed out behind her the next and, a second later, tucked itself out of sight between her legs.
To Dickon, that tail shouted, "I want to be friends … I'm running away … I'm afraid."
He understood the little dog completely. He, too, had felt confused and desperate.
This birthday was getting a little bit better. Brady took a big breath. If he tiptoed, he could sneak outside without anyone noticing. He turned to leave the room. A low growl sent prickles up his spine. In the shadowy hallway, a pair of white fangs gleamed. Grit was blocking the doorway.
