Yet Killdeer, by virtue of his sex, was given a bright and bouncing young pup. I remember watching it from a distance, thinking how smart and lively it was, so eager to please. Within a month, it was not the same animal. In so little time, Killdeer turned that eager pup into a snarling, wolfish, hateful creature, cringing from its own master, ready to tear out the world’s throat. It would be a terror in battle, Killdeer boasted. But it would never serve him as it might have. He had beaten the love out of it.
So it was with anger rather than fear that I watched Killdeer approach me. “What do you say, pretty blight?” he said to me, a wicked smile on his mouth. “Want to kiss me and give me boils?”
I bared my teeth at him. He drew back a moment. It must be unsettling, I thought, to have a curse threaten to bite. Then his smile grew. “Or maybe I’ll take the little blood sacrifice. You’ll give a kiss to get her back, won’t you?”
He lunged for me, taking hold of my sister. I turned away and drove an elbow into his side. He grunted, then by sheer force of size, wrenched Fairbird from my arms. Still attached to her by the cord, I staggered and fell. Fairbird’s face twisted in a silent scream at the pain of the cord digging into her skin.
The sight filled me with such rage, I hardly knew myself. I was on my feet in an instant, flying at Killdeer. I had not the strength to punch that sullen face of his as it deserved, so I grabbed his hair instead, giving it such a vicious tug that he howled and dropped Fairbird. My sister, panicked, flung her arms around my knees, her body shaking. Overbalanced, I let go of Killdeer’s hair and landed in the dirt, still tangled up in Fairbird and that fool cord.
A growl filled my ears.
I turned and found myself facing Killdeer’s lurcher. The young dog’s lips were drawn back, revealing its teeth. Saliva dripped from the end of its muzzle, and its eyes spoke its longing for blood.
I did not move. I knew from experience with my father’s dogs that the only way to take mastery is to show no fear. Before this creature, ready at a moment’s notice to tear off my face, it was nearly impossible not to cower. I know that is what Killdeer and his cohorts expected, and I heard them laughing in anticipation.
But I was not afraid, not after that first split instant of surprise. Instead, I was filled with a deep, heartrending pity.
This loveless creature had no true name. Unloved, it stood before me, broken even in its strength. Nameless, it would be no more than a brute all its days.
I did not fear that dog. Rather, I searched, gazing into its eyes to plumb the depths beneath.
Then I saw. I knew. A name that I could never speak. But I knew it now, and knew what this dog was meant to be had it known a tender master. And so I looked upon its snarling, frothing face and I loved it.
I do not know how long we were like stone in place. I remained crouched, one hand on the ground to support me, the other clutching Fairbird. The dog stood frozen in that snarl. Then suddenly the lurcher’s ears went back and the teeth vanished. It lowered its muzzle and whined gently. Placing its forepaws out before it, it lowered its body to the ground, the picture of submission.
I put out my hand and grabbed it by the back of the neck, gentle but firm as well. It snarled and feinted an attack, but I did not move. If I flinched, I would lose my arm to those dripping jaws. Once more, the dog whined and put its nose between its outstretched paws. Its tail twitched faintly.
Killdeer, who had been too stunned by this display to speak, suddenly roared: “Frostbite!” He took a step and clouted his dog across the head, sending it sprawling and yelping.
As though in a dream, I heard a shout. The next moment, an enormous red dog hurled itself into Killdeer. Snarling and screams rent the air. I would have screamed myself if I could, but instead I sat with my arms wrapped around Fairbird, struggling to get to my feet. Somehow I couldn’t make my limbs move. I saw the other four boys piling upon the red dog and Killdeer. Then Killdeer’s own lurcher flung itself into the fray, dragging the red dog away from its master. The other boys hastened to restrain their own dogs from joining the fight. Killdeer was too shaken from the attack to do anything, and I could see poor Frostbite getting the worst of the battle.
Another shout. I turned to see a young man I did not know emerge from the gorge. He cried out, “Bear!” and plunged into the tangle of fighting dogs without hesitation. He grabbed the red dog and, with strength I would not have thought possible, hauled the animal off of Frostbite. Then he whirled upon the other boys.
“Get away from here! Go!” he shouted, his face like thunder. He was older than they, though not by much. They looked at one another, calculating their numbers and trying to decide whether they ought to attack this stranger. “Do you want to fight me?” the stranger said, his voice menacing. He took a step toward the largest of the lads, one hand still holding his dog, the other forming a fist.
The boys fled, taking their dogs with them. All except Killdeer, sniffling like a child. He had forgotten Frostbite.