Page 67 of Under Fyre

Oh dear God, was she still in it?

There’s a blockage in my throat, and the more I try to swallow it, the harder it lodges itself in there.

“Where is she?” My voice shakes as much as my hands, as my arms.

Arrow barks, and starts forward at a slow limp. For a second I think she’s heading toward the edge of the cliff, and I make a grab for her collar. But then she turns, heading up the side of the hill.

“You found her?” My heart pounds frantically at the thought. “Arrow, you found her!”

My Labrador doesn’t look back. She just keeps plodding along. I mentally urge her to go faster, even though I know she’s doing the best she can.

Does that make me a monster?

Oh, I know it does.

We pass the place in the road where I had to swerve out for a fallen tree, and keep going. Heading straight.

Did she not know I was down there in the gorge…or was this the chance Charlotte was looking for?

I saw her face. The disgust. The horror. Thefear.

Why did I tell her? Why did I trust her to understand my mission in life?

Because I grew too close. Because I made the mistake of thinking she was like me.

“She’s gone,” I say. My voice sounds hollow and pathetic.

Arrow keeps limping on ahead, determined as I’ve ever seen her. She doesn’t turn her nose to smell out anything new—she’s locked onto a trail, and only she knows where it leads.

She takes us to the national road cutting through this region of the forest.

The moment I see that midnight black strip, my body grows heavy.

“Hey, pups, come here.”

Arrow slows, looks back, wags her tail. As if she’s wondering why I stopped her.

“It’s okay, I know.”

I go to my knees and hold out my arms. Arrow doesn’t hesitate—she rushes over as fast as her injured paw allows and puts her head on my shoulder, hugging me.

Running my hand down her leg, I try and feel if there’s a break in the bone. Arrow holds still, her chest heaving against mine as she pants.

“Not broken, I don’t think. But this?” I touch the shallow trough carved through her shoulder, the fur around it stiff with dried blood.

Arrow whines and moves away from my touch. It’s strange, because the wound is so shallow it shouldn’t hurt much.

I try and inspect it in the light cast off from the moon, but Arrow pushes back and limps away from me.

Frowning, I stand and follow her out to the shoulder of the road.

Arrow is sniffing the ground. I’d tell her it’s futile, but it’s keeping her occupied, so maybe that’s a good thing.

It’s a long walk back to the cabin. An even longer walk to the closest house—and fuck knows if the owner is even there.

Arrow barks.

I glance over. She’s at the sign marking the road leading off to my cabin. I turn to scan the westbound road, but she barks again.

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