Page 10 of Hero

“I had a, uh, hitchhiker.”

Before Zed can voice any sort of response to this statement, Rina comes bursting out of the cabin toward us with the dog running excitedly at her heels.

“Is it your doggie, Essie?”

“It’s not really mine. I saw him in town, and he didn’t have anyone to take care of him, so he wanted to come along with me. We’ll have to ask your daddy if it’s okay for him to stay.”

Rina blinks her big blue eyes up at her father. “Is it okay, Daddy? He really likes me already, so he’ll be sad if he has to go away.”

The dog appears good with children. He doesn’t react or back away when Rina reaches over to play with his ears. His eyes are focused on me fixedly as if he knows we’re waiting for an answer.

Zed slants a speaking look at me—more impatient than annoyed—and then moves his gaze to his daughter and then the dog. “He can stay if he behaves himself and doesn’t cause trouble. Right now he’s a stranger, and we always have to be careful with strangers.”

“I know.” Rina nods solemnly. She reaches to pat the dog’s head with a little more care. “Hiding is the best thing to do with a stranger. But he’s a good dog. I know it.

“We’ll see.”

“I got you some presents,” I tell the girl to distract her from her defense of the dog. “I put them on your bed, so why don’t you go check them out while Daddy gets to know the dog better.”

“Presents!” Suitably diverted, she gallops back toward the cabin. “What did you get me?”

Zed gives me a look.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t go looking for the poor thing. He was with those men in town, and they were hurting him. I couldn’t just leave him there to starve to death.”

“I know you couldn’t.”

I can’t tell from his face what he would have done in my place, but his advice has always been for me to do whatever we need to do to take care of ourselves even if it means we can’t take care of others.

Sometimes we have to be ruthless if we want to live.

It’s not bad advice. It’s what the world has become since Impact. And I’ve gotten better at making hard choices for survival.

Maybe I should have been more ruthless with the dog, but I wasn’t.

If Zed wants us to be ruthless, he can do it himself.

He crouches down so he’s at eye level with the dog, who’s sitting up straight as if he knows he’s being evaluated. Zed makes a sudden, purposeful move, and the dog shrinks back but doesn’t growl or lunge.

Scratching behind the dog’s ears, Zed says, “Are you a good boy, buddy?” He feels the dog’s face. Opens his mouth and puts his fingers between its teeth.

The animal doesn’t bite down. Doesn’t even pull away.

Then Zed stands up. “Okay. He doesn’t seem aggressive, but keep an eye on him for a while. He’s going to have to do a lot foraging for his own food.”

“I already told him that.”

Zed’s mouth quirks up slightly. “Did you?”

“Yes. But whatever life we can give him will be better than the one he’s had so far.”

“I believe it. I’ll work with Rina so she’s not too grabby with him. What are we going to call him?”

“I don’t know. Should we see what Rina thinks?”

“I’d rather she not be the one to name him, in case he doesn’t work out.”

“Okay.” I think about what Zed called him just now. “How about Buddy?”

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