noticed Tyrone running up to him, and he didn’t look happy.  “Sherlock, I heard Wishbone.  He’s in trouble!”

The expression on Tyrone’s face told Sherlock that he wasn’t joking.  “Please, I need your help,” the younger dog begged.  Sherlock rose to his feet.  “All right.  As long as this doesn’t involve any fighting.”

“Thank y—“

“Shhhh!  Listen.”

Sherlock lifted an ear to the source of the pup’s whimpering.  It seemed to be coming from the forest.  “Follow me!” he snapped as he headed in that direction at a full run.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Sherlock put his nose to the ground and tried to pick up Wishbone’s scent.  He found it mixed with that of a hare, and figured that the pup had been chasing it when he had gotten into trouble.  Tyrone was also sniffing around, acting very nervous for his friend’s welfare.  “I found him,” Sherlock announced.  Tyrone’s head popped up.  “You did?”

Wishbone’s scent trail abruptly stopped.  Sherlock sighed.  “And I lost him.”

The worry returned to Tyrone’s face.  “He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air.  Something happened to him.”

“I already know that, Ty.  Weird thing is, Wishbone wasn’t alone.”

Tyrone came to Sherlock’s side.  He didn’t have to ask, the scent was strong.  “Wolves.”

“There’s no blood, but I do smell fear in Wishbone.  They may have taken him to their pack.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know”—Sherlock returned to sniffing—“But I do know where they headed.  Follow me!”

The black wolf dropped Wishbone on the dirt and stepped back in line with the three other wolves that had found him.  Wishbone worriedly glanced about him, wondering what was going on.  The crowd of wolves around him parted to let a dark gray wolf enter.  “Nukilik, this is the dog we have brought you from the border.  We found him infiltrating our territory,” the black wolf stated.  The lead wolf, Nukilik, Wishbone assumed, picked his way towards him.  He eyed the puppy up and down.  “Scrawny little thing,” he noted, raising his brows.  “Aituserk, I’m very disappointed in you,” he finally said after his examination.  “What kind of a sorry excuse for a dog do you call this?”

Wishbone would’ve growled at the wolf if he wasn’t so scared.  The black wolf looked abashed.  “But Leader, I thought you’d be pleased.  He’s walked on our land and chased our food!  He should be annihilated!”

“Aitu, Aitu, Aitu, how many times do I have to remind you?  Three Warnings and then annihilation.  Let the pup go.”

Aituserk dropped his head.  “Yes my Leader.”

The crowd of wolves dispersed as Aituserk led Wishbone away.  When they were a good distance away from the pack, Aituserk hissed into Wishbone’s ear: “Remember pup, three times and I can kill you.  Two more times and that’s it.”

Wishbone’s heart raced.  Oh, how comforting.

Sherlock picked his way through the forest and found the wolves’ scent growing stronger.  “I think we’re getting closer.”

Without warning, Wishbone burst out of a clump of bushes. 

“Wishbone!” Sherlock and Tyrone said in unison.  The pup rain straight for Sherlock and buried his head against his leg.  “They’re gonna kill me!  They’re gonna kill me!” he wailed.  Sherlock licked the puppy’s head.  “Who?”

“The wolves!” Wishbone sobbed.

“What wolves?” Tyrone queried.  Wishbone quieted down long enough to say: “The Black Forest Wolves!”

                                                                        *

Sherlock hadn’t the time to watch the gorgeous sunset happening at the moment, he was busy questioning Wishbone on everything that had happened with him and the wolves.  They had all gotten home by nine, and decided to stay in tonight.  Sherlock was with Wishbone in the lengthy laundry room.  Once the pup had calmed down, he found out all there was to know about this ‘Black Forest Pack’  and they’re odd customs.  “And they said that the third time they’d annihilate you?”

Wishbone nodded.  “Uh-huh.”

“Well then.  I suggest you don’t go poking your nose in the forest for the time being.  Now it’s high time you get some sleep.  You’ll need your energy for tomorrow,” Sherlock said.  “Okay,” Wishbone replied, yawning.  The puppy left through the doorway, Tyrone entering.  “What’d you find out?”

“That this pack is a serious threat to us.  I’d like to uncover more about them, but I think it’s best we stay away from the forest for a while.”

“Sounds like a good idea if you ask me,” Tyrone agreed.  “But,” Sherlock continued, “those words that the wolf said to Wishbone do bother me.”

Tyrone lay down.  “And what was that?”

“”Three times and I can kill you.  Two more times and that’s it.””

Tyrone jerked his head back.  “Yeesh.  He sure knows how to scare the heck out of someone.”

Sherlock shook his head.  “Keep an eye on Wishbone for now, I don’t want to see him near the forest.  Period.”

“Gotcha, Chief.”

Sherlock got up and went into the living room.  “Goodnight, Tyrone.”

“G’night.”

He forced his body to make a leap onto the couch and landed rather awkwardly.  Sherlock made himself comfortable then laid his head on the soft cushions.  His mind was still abuzz with the events of the day, and those wolf’s words would not leave his head.  He knew that if Wishbone were ever caught going there two more times, he’d be a dead duck.

Chapter Three

Early in the morning, Cheryl, the dogs’ owner, had gotten up to pick up another dog to bring to ‘Second Chance Acres’.  Tyrone had eagerly volunteered to accompany her, anxious to meet the new dog.  Cheryl had joked on the phone with her husband that the place would soon be overrun with every stray they saw on the streets.  It had taken a while to get into the city, and Tyrone had started to feel uncomfortable at first sight of a townhouse.  He had a good reason to.  Before he came to Second Chance Acres, he used to live on the streets of a bustling city until a car had hit him when he failed to cross a highway.  He’d been bandaged up at the animal shelter and adopted by the Lewis’, but he was left traumatized by the accident.  Now, Cheryl was pulling up at the shelter and rolling down the windows. 

She got out and locked the doors before entering, leaving Tyrone to wonder what the new dog would be like.  He hoped it was someone his age, and then he would have someone to talk with about matters beyond Wishbone’s knowing.  He excitedly watched the glass doors, awaiting the newcomer.  After a few minutes, Cheryl came out with a leash and something holding it up.  He saw her bend down and coax the animal out, speaking gently and softly.  A female Border Collie came out of the doors with her tail tucked.  She had dark brown markings and mismatched, uneasy eyes.  Cheryl unlocked the car doors and let the collie jump into the back seat.  Tyrone didn’t try to talk to her until they were halfway out of the city limits.  “Uh, I’m Tyrone.”

The collie looked at him, cocking her head.  She blinked.  “Robyn.”

“That’s an, uh, nice name.  It suits you well.”

“Thanks.”

“So…um, where did you come from?”

“You don’t need to know,” Robyn snapped, her mismatched eyes turning to slits.  “Uh, OK…”

Tyrone gave up on his conversation and stared at his paws.  Well that went well.

Upon reaching the ranch, Tyrone grew relieved.  The ride had been long, long and quiet.  He regretted asking her that last question, really regretted it.  Cheryl let him out, and he jumped to the ground and left in a flash.

Robyn leapt down and inspected her new home.  It looked ten times better than her old one—a puppy mill.  At least here she could stretch her legs and be free.  She followed Cheryl into the house and found an old hound sleeping on the couch.  She could admit one thing; he snored horribly.  A terrier raced down the hallway and out the doggie door, on the other side of the house.  Robyn raised an eyebrow while lowering the other.  Exactly how many dogs live here?  She sniffed the rug in the living room and the strong scented candle on the coffee table.  Robyn’s head jolted in the bloodhound’s