Page 62 of Under Fyre

Apparently, Arrow gives zero fucks about steak right now.

“Fine. That’s it. You stay in the forest, and you freeze your little tail off.”

I storm away from Arrow and onto the tarmac. There’s a long strip of road visible before it curves out of sight.

Which way?

I glance back—Arrow’s watching me from the trees. She’s stopped smelling the air, but seems happy to remain exactly where she is until she ices up.

“Dumb dog,” I mutter. But I’m more scared than angry. At least with her at my side, if wildlife attacked me, I’d have her in my corner.

Wildlife?

Okay, ifanythingattacked me.

Who the hell would be out here, anyway? This place is as remote as it gets. I glance around, still trying to figure out which direction to start walking.

Then I see the sign.

It’s just a random set of numbers on a green metal board, but it’s right where the dirt road starts heading to Fyre’s cabin.

I guess even hunting cabins need signs.

One of the numbers is a six.

There’s a gunshot hole right through the center. The sight of it freaks me out.

That’s when I make up my mind.

There’s only one sign for the cabin, and it’s on this side of the road. Surely that means more traffic passes from east to west than the other way around.

Right?

So if I head east, technically—

“Oh thank God,” I whisper.

There in the distance, coming from the east, is a car.

Arrow barks.

“See? That’s why I brought us here.” I turn to Arrow, widening my eyes at her. “We need help.” I point at the oncoming car. “Help is coming.”

Arrow barks again. And again. And again, and again, and again. Louder and more insistent. Her ears are up, her tail stiff and straight. She doesn’t look apologetic anymore.

She looks…angry.

“What?” I wrap my arms around myself and take a step back. Would she honestly lunge at me after all this time we’ve spent together? Maybe she’s in so much pain she’s gone crazy.

Or maybe…

I look at the car, then back at Arrow.

The hairs on the back of my arms stand up.

It makes no sense. This could be the only car for hours—fuckingdays! I’d be an idiot to run away.

Bark.

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