Chapter 31

• In the quiet gloom before dawn, when even the softest murmurs of the wind seem laden with portent, old Mrs. Daniels was roused by a series of scratching sounds and low, dissonant growls. The noise, neither wholly animal nor entirely human, crept under her door and pried her from the fragile realm of sleep. With trembling determination, she beckoned her husband and son to rise, and the trio moved as one to the threshold of their humble abode. Ricky led the way, his hand never far from the grip of his trusty six-shooter.
• At the door, Ricky’s eyes widened in alarm as a wild, feral shape_ a wolf with a peculiar, familiar air_ materialized in the dim light. For a split second, he faltered and instinctively raised his gun. But before the muzzle could flare, the creature, revealing itself to be none other than Grim Fang, trotted forward with an odd, subservient deference.
• “Don’t shoot_ hold your fire!” cried Sam, his voice a mixture of relief and urgency. “That’s a dog, and there’s his master!”