Chapter One

Sherlock gazed outside of the passenger side’s window at the beautiful countryside scenery.  Since he’d retired a few days ago from the police force, the old bloodhound has said goodbye to all his canine friends and hello to retirement.  His former partner and longtime owner, Arnold, had made a phone call earlier that month to a place by the name of ‘Second Chance Acres’.  Ever since then, Sherlock had been wondering about this place, and what was there.  Now, he had a hunch that he’d be staying there for a long time.  I just hope they don’t have any rowdy puppies.  They’ll suck the life out of me like a sponge.  The car started to bump onto gravel as it entered under a wooden arch that read ‘Second Chance Acres: All Dogs Welcome’.  A high fence line surrounded the whole property, and the path wound around some conifers to a large country house with a refurnished barn behind it.

A huge mountain range ran all the way along it, and disappeared off into the distance as if it went on forever.  Thick clusters of pines were bunched together along the mountains, with gaps in places, suggesting small meadows.  Sherlock sat upright on the seat.  I think I’m beginning to like this place already.  “We’re here,” Arnold said as he parked the car on a large gravel lot beside a Cherokee and a Sedan.  He shut down the ignition and got out of the car, then opened the car door for Sherlock.  Sherlock eased himself out, so not to rattle his old bones, and followed Arnold to the front porch that wrapped around the house.  He ran the doorbell and waited, Sherlock sitting by his side.  Sherlock heard scuffling come from inside before a young boy, about the age of six answered the door.  “Are you here to give us your dog?”

Arnold smirked.  “We’re here to drop him off.  Is any of your parents home?”

The boy nodded before ducking back into the house and yelling: “Mo-om!  The dog’s here!”

Sherlock really hope that kid didn’t like to play with bloodhounds.  In a few seconds a woman came, shook hands with Arnold, and opened the door two let the two in.  Sherlock made his way across the hardwood floor to a nice, soft looking carpet and lied down on it.  He saw something dart behind the couch then dash down the hall.  It looked as if it were spying on him.  He raised a wrinkled brow.  What on earth could that be…?  He reminded himself that he’d find out later, since he would be living here.  Arnold and the woman began talking, the woman saying: “I know I’ve already gone over this on the phone, but I think it’s all right if I discuss it again.  Sherlock here will have a relaxing rest of his life out here with the other dogs, and you can visit him anytime you want—“

Sherlock tuned out.  Just skip to the point, will ya?  I’ll get to sleep whenever I want and have a nice time, yada, yada, yada.  We get it.  The white thing that had caught his attention earlier was now staring at him from the dinner table in the conjoining room.  Sherlock stared at it intensely.  It was a Jack Russell pup, a curious one.  “Hello there, young one,” he said.  The pup’s eyes bulged as it realized that Sherlock had seen him.  Before Sherlock could even try to speak to the pup again, it had darted in the opposite direction, through the doggie door in the kitchen and outside.  Sherlock couldn’t help but feel compelled to find out just what that pup had been doing, and why he heard something like two beings speaking outside.  Just as he pulled himself up, Arnold finished speaking with the woman and got up to leave.  Sherlock eyed the back door suspiciously before trotting alongside Arnold to say goodbye.  At the door, Arnold paused and bent down to caress Sherlock one last time.  “You’ll have a great time here,” he said before standing up and going out the door.  Sherlock ran up to the nearest window and saw Arnold get into the car and start to drive out of the path. 

Sherlock gave a long bloodhound bray as the car disappeared around the bend and was gone.  He felt now that he’d really miss Arnold and the police force; it was like being torn in two.  He knew he’d have an absolutely splendid life out here, but he missed the police work.  Sherlock stood there for a while before the lady came over and petted him on the head.  “It’s OK boy.  C’mon, we’re going to meet the other dogs now.”

Sherlock perked up.  Ah-hah!  Now I get to see who those other two are!  He followed her with haste as she walked outside with him.  Sherlock trotted to the back of the house where the doggie door was and found a strong scent of dog there.  He heard the lady sigh.  “Where are those two?”

She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled: “Tyrone!  Wishbone!  Here boys!  Come here!”

Sherlock hid himself in the afternoon shadows the house cast and lay in wait.  This seems ridiculously close to those stakeouts I used to do…  He spied two white specks come out from the fields and grow into dogs forms as they ran up to the woman.  The taller of the two, a foxhound, wagged his tail like made while the Jack Russell kept hopping up and down, up and down.  Good Lord, what did that fellow have for breakfast?  Caffeine?  The woman pointed over to Sherlock, said: “He’s a little shy, but I think you’ll all become great friends.”

Sherlock snorted.  Shy she says; I’m observing, not hiding.  The two dogs bounded over to Sherlock.  He got up and found himself taller than them, which boosted his self esteem a bit. 

“Hi,” the foxhound said, “I’m Tyrone—“

“And I’m Wishbone.”

“My name’s Sherlock.  I’m a retired police dog, and expect for my stay to be pleasant.  Am I clear?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” the dogs barked.  Sherlock with-strained from rolling his eyes.  Wise guys.  “And I don’t need any funny business either.”

He turned on his heels and left to explore, hoping he was clear with the dogs.

“Boy, what a grouch,” Wishbone mumbled.  Tyrone shot a hard look down at the pup.  “Wha-a-at?”

“He just wants some peace and quiet,” Tyrone said,  “Old dogs are like that, and besides, he deserves it.  He must’ve been big back in his younger days, and he should be treated well here if he was then too.  And, that was kind of stupid to do that “Sir, yes, Sir” thing.”

The terrier looked unimpressed.  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.  As long as he doesn’t start correcting every little thing I—“

Tyrone cleared his throat as he gave Wishbone another glare.  “Okay, okay.  I’m going to go find a hare and follow it down a hole.”  He began to scamper away.  “Don’t wait up!” he hollered over his shoulder.  “Like I would,” Tyrone said under his breath.  He returned his attention to the old hound slinking away.  Maybe I could act as a kind of guide for him.  He’ll probably need my help if he runs into something—like a dangerous animal.  Tyrone ran after Sherlock.  “Hey!  Hey!  Wait for me!”

He jolted to a walk when he reached Sherlock’s side.  The hound had his head low and legs moving—fast. 

“Need me to show you around?”

“No.”

“Need me to help you with anything?”

“No.”

“Need me to show you the nice, quiet places?”

“No.”

“Need me to…show you the pond?”

“No.”

“Want me to go away?”

“Yes.”

Tyrone quit trying to keep up.  “Have it your way.  But if you do decide to let me help you, don’t hesitate to call me,” he assured.

“Right.  I highly doubt that will happen,” Sherlock replied, not even stopping or pausing to look Tyrone square in the eye.  Tyrone lowered his head and turned to leave.  He’ll come around…in a month or two.

Chapter Two

Wishbone sped in hot pursuit after a frightened hare, tongue lolling and legs blurring.  Almost gotcha!  Almost gotcha!  Almost gotcha!  He screeched to a stop when the hare ran for cover into a thicket.  Wishbone sniffed the branches and saw the hare stick it’s tongue out at him before springing to safety.  Wishbone’s eyes narrowed as he yipped at the smart-alec hare.  “I’ll get you next time!” Wishbone threatened, “you think you’re so lucky, don’t ya!  Well you’ll be sor-ry!”

“And so will you.”

Wishbone didn’t recognize that voice at all.  He slowly turned to face the canine, then froze.  A massive black wolf stood towering over him.  Wishbone’s tail tucked under him as he started to quake.  “Look what we have here, boys,” the wolf said as he stuck his big muzzle in Wishbone’s face.  “A puppy-dog.”

Sherlock awakened to the sound of a puppy’s yelping.  He stretched out on the porch and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.  He 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 direction when he stirred.  The dog yawned and stretched his forelegs, and then did he notice her.  He wrinkled his wrinkled brows even more.  “Who’re you?”

Startled, Robyn stared.  The dog squinted.  “Did you just arrive here?  Because I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Yes, I’m new.  The name’s Robyn.”

“Sherlock.  It’s nice to get acquainted with you, Robyn.”

For the first time, a smile blossomed on Robyn’s face.  “Are you and the two others the only dogs living here, or are there more?”

Sherlock chuckled.  “Nope, it’s just us three…four.”

“Then who’s that dog in the picture?”

Robyn motioned at a picture frame on the fireplace with an Airedale Terrier panting next to a young boy.  “Hmmm, I don’t know.  Maybe he was an older dog.  Oh, that reminds me, have you met Wishbone and Tyrone yet?”

Robyn looked skeptical.  “I haven’t met Wishbone”—her happy face changed into a scowl—“And I’ve met Tyrone.”

Robyn watched as Sherlock eased himself off the couch.  “Did something happen between you and Tyrone?”

“Sort of,” she admitted.  “It’s just, I don’t like to discuss my past.  It wasn’t a very fun puppyhood, if you know what I mean.”

Sherlock looked understanding.  He nodded.  “Would you like to go meet Wishbone, and maybe say something to Tyrone?”

Robyn sighed.  “I guess.”

She didn’t really feel up to it.  Robyn felt a little carsick; she’d never done well in cars, and today was no exception.  “Um, is it OK if I lie down first?” she asked as she lay down on a blanket behind an easy chair, “I’m not a car-traveling type of dog.”

Sherlock winked.  “Gotcha.  I’ll bring the cadets to you.”

Robyn’s ears went down.  Whooptee-doo.  The terrier she’d seen earlier zipped inside and hopped in front of Robyn.  Her eyes followed him as he kept bouncing and bouncing, which wasn’t helping her queasiness at all.  “Could you please stop that?  I got carsick on the ride back and—“

“Sorry.”  The puppy landed and stayed there.  “I’m Wishbone.”

“Robyn.  Nice to meet you.”

“Same ‘ere.  Uh, now if you’d excuse me, I have some hare business to attend to…”

“No, you don’t.  Remember what happened yesterday?” Tyrone came in inquiring Wishbone.  The pup’s spirits seemed to melt.  “Ohhh, yeah.  That.  I’ll stay inside today.”

The Jack Russell left quietly down the hallway.  “Are you always such a kill joy?” Robyn asked.  Tyrone yanked his head in her direction.  “What’d you say?”

“That puppy was all happy and ready to have fun outside until you reminded him of something that obviously upsets the poor thing.  You seem to have a knack for that—“

“Do not!  There’s a good reason for why he can’t go out there—“

“And what exactly is that, hmmm?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why?  Because I was rude to you in the car?  Well I’m sorry.  Happy?”

“No, not really.  You’ve got a bad attitude—“

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.  Stop chewing each other out,” Sherlock interrupted.

Robyn laid her throbbing head back down, turning it away from Tyrone.  “What’s going on here?  I thought you two were going to apologize?  You just made a bigger mess out of things—“

“I did apologize!  But Mister Kill Joy here had to—“

“Alright already.  I get your point, Robyn.”

“Sure you do,” Robyn said under her breath.  Sherlock’s gaze locked on Tyrone.  “Tyrone.  You.  Me.  Outside.  Now.”

“What did you say to her in the car that caused her to get so upset?” Sherlock asked.

“I just asked her where she came from and all I know is that the rest of the car ride was a long and silent one!” 

“Have you thought that maybe she lived in a place where she was treated harshly?  No hygiene, no decent food, no nothing?”

“Uhhh…”

“’Uhhh’s’ right.  Now I expect for you to ask for forgiveness to her even though it doesn’t seem like a good reason and forget it.  She’ll be up to it in the noon.  Meanwhile, maybe you can think up a good apology,” Sherlock concluded before leaving Tyrone to sort things out in his head.

Feeling much better now, Robyn sat in the tall grass, the breeze blowing her soft hair.  She closed her eyes ad sighed.  This is waaay better than that cramped cage back at the mill.  Anything’s better than that cage at the mill. 

“…Byn?”

“Huh?”

Robyn was roused out of her thoughts.  “Who said that?”

“Uh, I did,” said a sheepish looking Tyrone.  Robyn straightened her composure and said: “I’m sorry for snapping at you.  I had a rough life.”

“Um, yeah, I kind of figured that part out on my own.  Would you forgive me too?  I shouldn’t ask that question to any dog unless I know they’re comfortable with it.”

The Border Collie nodded.  “I forgive you.  Next time, just ask how they’re stay was at the shelter.”

“Okay…Er, would you like me to show you some of the places here?  It’s okay if you say no, I under—“

“Sure.  Do you have a pond here?  Any meadows?”

“Both actually.  Would you like to see them?”

Robyn noticed Tyrone’s tail start to wag.  “Why not?”

She got up and let Tyrone lead her away.

Robyn was glad she’d forgiven Tyrone and followed him.  Now, they were splashing in a pond, throwing Lilly pads and reeds at each other.  Tyrone dove under when she flung a pad at him with her tail, and popped up right in front of her, scaring Robyn and sending her falling backwards.  She hid there until he looked closer to see if she was okay, and dragged him under by his neck.  They both came up drenched to the bone and laughing.  They got out of the water, which was growing colder by the minute as it drew nearer to nighttime, and shook.  Tyrone waited until Robyn was dry before saying: “I’ve got another place to show you.  It’ll be ready by now, just follow with your eyes closed, I’ll guide you.”

Robyn shifted her eyebrows before closing her eyes.  “If you promise it’ll be cool.”

She heard a smile in Tyrone’s voice this time.  “Oh, it will.”

Tyrone pushed away overgrown blades of grass for Robyn and led her into a large meadow.  “Sit,” he ordered.  She sat down, eyes tightly shut.  Tyrone waited for a few minutes until the place was ready.  “Okay, open your eyes.”

When Robyn did, her face lit up in awe.  Lightning bugs flitted over a meadow covered with poppies.  She got up and started to chase after a few, then bumped into Tyrone after her mad pursuit of a tricky little bug.  Their noses met as they both stared.  Robyn giggled as she drew back and Tyrone looked at his paws.  She licked the side of his head and nuzzled him.  Tyrone nuzzled her back, feeling very content with himself.

“Awww, now ain’t that just sweet?”

Both dogs latched their eyes in the direction the voice had come from.  A black wolf strolled out of the forest with three others.  “This is so cute I can puke,” he said as he started to circle the two dogs.  Tyrone jumped to his feet and began to growl, using his body to shield Robyn.  A wolf with mixed colors growled back at him and followed his every move from outside of the invisible ring.  “You must be the pup’s friends.  Well, I’ll give you two the little warning I gave him: If this were to happen three times in a row, you’d be long dead by now.”

“Did you forget to mention to me that wolves were out here too?” Robyn hissed into Tyrone’s ear.  Tyrone side glanced at her, and saw now how scared she really was.  This was probably the first time in her life she’d seen a real live wolf.  He felt something slam into his side when he was off guard and went skidding on the grass.  The multicolored wolf stood over him, fangs bared.  Tyrone snarled at him and kicked the wolf in the gut with his hind legs.  He flinched a little, but took hold of Tyrone’s throat and flung him again.  He landed in a heap, wondering if that wolf had abs of steel.  The black wolf barked an order, and just as they had mysteriously come, they melted back into the forest.

Robyn was at Tyrone’s side in a flash, helping him up and inspecting him.  “You have a couple of bruises, but you’ll live,” she said.  “That’s good to know.  Now let’s get outta here before the Big Bad Wolf returns.”

                                                                        *

Tyrone had to stay inside for a few days, still sore from his mishap with the wolves.  He kept Wishbone company, now realizing why the puppy had been so scared that day he’d seen the wolves for the first time.  The two rolled an old tennis ball back and forth as they talked, and Tyrone willingly played hide-and-go-seek with Wishbone, always being “It” but never complaining.  Robyn would visit him once in a while, but she’d mostly spend her time outdoors, and who could blame her?  After the run in with the wolves, Robyn explained on their way back to the house that she used to live at a puppy mill that was like a living hell for her.

At least now she could find out that not all humans were bad.

Chapter Four

Two days had passed since the last wolf incident, and Sherlock decided it would be safe for him to investigate the edge of the forest for a while.  From questioning Wishbone, Tyrone and Robyn, Sherlock figured that the “Scout Wolves” always traveled in fours, one being the “Lead Scout”, and the rest being subordinates.  Sherlock sniffed some tracks that smelled a lot like wolf.  They were strongly scented, and had a twinge of dangerousness in it.  This has to be the Lead Scout.  Sherlock kept his nose to the ground and followed the tracks.  They were running, stopped, scattered.  Why would they scatter?  Did something scare them?  He’d met another dead end.  This is almost exactly like the police work I did.  Dead ends seem to be attracted to me.  It was a good thing that Sherlock was very observant, though.  He found cracked twigs and wolf hair on the ground, noting that they could’ve gotten into a scuffle from the mess of dirt, fur tufts, and paw prints on the ground.

Sherlock studied the spot for a few minutes before picking a set of tracks to follow.  He lifted an ear when he heard Robyn barking far off in the distance, and realized that it was time to head back.

He turned to leave when he felt another’s presence.  He sniffed the air, but they had disguised their scent.  “Hello?”

He tried to smell past their cover up scent, but it wasn’t working.  “Hello?”

All of a sudden, a black streak came out of nowhere and hammered Sherlock to the ground.  Winded, he looked up and came face to face with a snarling black wolf’s yellowed teeth.