You said she’s fine, right? He’s a big dog, Em. Accidents happen.”
But it didn’t feel like an accident. It felt intentional. The memory of his body positioned *past* Lily, as if intercepting something, nagged at her. As evening drew in, a chill settled with the dusk. Emily watched Ranger curl up on the cold patio, his nose tucked under his tail, and her resolve wavered. He looked exiled. Defeated.
With a sigh, she unlocked the door and slid it open. “Okay,” she said softly. “Come in.”
He rose and entered with a subdued grace, not rushing to her or to Lily. He went directly to his bed in the corner of the living room, circled once, and lay down with a heavy sigh, his eyes already closing. Emily made dinner, put Lily to bed, and tried to read, but her attention kept drifting to the dog. He slept deeply, but his legs twitched, chasing some unseen quarry in his dreams.
It was well past midnight when the sound woke her. Not a growl this time, but a whine. A high, strained, desperate sound that pierced the deep silence of the house. Emily sat up, heart thudding dully. She followed the sound to the living room. Ranger was not on his bed. He was standing again at the sliding glass door, a silhouette against the moonlit yard. His whole body was taut, a bowstring pulled to its limit, and the whine was coming from him, a plea or a warning she could not decipher. As she watched, he lifted a paw and placed it against the glass, not scratching, but pressing, as if feeling for something on the other side. The gesture was so uncharacteristically vulnerable that Emily felt her earlier anger dissolve into a deep, unsettling dread.
She walked forward, standing beside him as she had nights before. Together, they looked out into the silver-washed darkness. The yard was empty, still, and perfectly quiet. But Ranger saw something. His low whine persisted, a thread of sound woven from pure instinct. Emily placed a hand lightly on his back, feeling the tremors running through his muscles. He did not lean into the touch this time. He was locked in a vigil she could not share, guarding against a shadow she could not see. The solid warmth of him was still there, but it was now a barrier, tense and ready. She finally understood the something else she had seen in his calm eyes. It was not malice. It was knowledge. And it was absolute, unwavering focus. The household’s gentle rhythm was broken. Something had crossed the fence. And Ranger, it seemed, was the only one who knew it was still there.
That understanding, however, was shattered the next afternoon. Emily saw none of the quiet dread from the night before. She didn’t see the threat he chased. She only saw Lily, crying and shaken on the ground, and Ranger’s massive body thrashing in the grass yards away. “Oh my God—Ranger!” Emily’s voice cracked, sharp with terror and a sickening sense of betrayal.