The dangerous truth about werewolves, not the common misunderstood myth.
Excerpt
“Mom,” Cracey called out. “There’s a doggie back here.”
It was a cocker spaniel with soft golden brown hair, which curled and tufted all over its sides and back, and was smooth around its head. Its tail wagged frantically from side to side, carving high in the air. The dog panted and Cracey thought he looked happy, even smiling. She’d never seen a dog smile before. Well, the dog in that one movie did, but she fell asleep through that. The cocker spaniel trotted up in front of Cracey and plopped right into a sitting position. It stared at her with its tongue bobbing up and down like a limp banner. It eyed the orange ball in Cracey’s hand.
“You wanna play with my ball, doggy,” Cracey asked.
The dog stood up and made the barking motions, but made no sound.
“Okay,” Cracey said. “I’ll throw it and you catch it and bring it back, Okay doggy?”
The cocker spaniel replied with another silent bark and an enthusiastic bounce.
Cracey launched the ball into the air. The dog turned and ran after it. The ball landed in the grass and the stray animal immediately picked it up in its jowls. The Spaniard ran back to Cracey, sat in front of her and spit the ball at her feet.
“Yuck,” Cracey said while wiping the ball on her front. “You got doggy goobies on it.” She tossed the ball into the air again with all the control she could muster with only two fingers holding the slimy thing.
This time the dog only had to run a little ways before catching the ball in its mouth in midair. Again, he returned with the ball to the little girl.
“You have to drop the ball if you want me to throw it again,” Cracey complained. “Come on.”
The dog returned an inquisitive look.
“Here, let me show you.” Cracey took the ball in her hand and pulled it from the animal’s mouth. “You smell funny.”
Cracey stepped back and repeated her action of throwing the ball, this time with more disgust at the growing coat of dog saliva drenching her toy. She could never play with this ball after today. Again, the dog chased the ball and caught it, a little faster this time. The speed of the dog startled Cracey. She couldn’t catch a ball that fast. The dog returned with the toy. Cracey had to pull the wet sphere from his mouth a second time. This time the ball felt warm, hot, almost burning, and something about the smell of the dog wasn’t right either. Its breath was stronger and worse smelling than before. Cracey felt funny inside her tummy and head.
“I don’t think I wanna play anymore.” Cracey stepped away from the cocker.
The cocker stepped toward her. The once appealing smile had disappeared from the animal’s face. He looked serious. His tail had dropped and now stood still. His march matched Cracey’s retreating steps and scared the five-year-old. His nose pressed against her hand.
“No!”
The dog stopped and a low growl burrowed from beneath his lips.
Cracey stepped back and got some room between her and the frightening dog. The dog stepped forward.
Read more about Circle of Dogs: The New Paladin and D.L. Fairchild HERE.
Copyright 2008 D.L. Fairchild. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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