Thirty
Cammy on the footstool, holding Puzzle on her lap, started with the furry ears, the shape of which reminded her of calla lilies, and proceeded down the neck to the shoulders, working her fingers all the way into the undercoat, massaging the creature’s sleek muscles. She was surprised by what she found—or, rather, by what she didn’t find.
“I’m not feeling a tick anywhere. Not one. And she doesn’t seem to have any fleas, either.”
Grimacing, Grady said, “I didn’t think about ticks and fleas when I let them in the house.”
“No ticks, no fleas—she can’t have been roaming around fields and woods more than a day or so, probably a lot less than that.”
“When Merlin and I saw them in the meadow this afternoon, they were romping as if they’d just been set free. Maybe they were.”
“No papillomas or cysts,” Cammy reported.
She raised her hand to her face and found that no offensive odor had been transferred from the white fur to her skin. Leaning forward, she put her nose to Puzzle’s ventral coat.
“She smells fresh, as if she was just groomed.”
Feeling ignored, Merlin dropped the toy duck and thrust his big head into the moment, resting his chin on Puzzle’s chest, rolling his eyes at Cammy.
Before Cammy could pet the dog, Puzzle took Merlin’s muzzle in both hands and began to massage his face with her small fingers, which was his favorite form of attention.
“Look,” Cammy whispered, as if a loud word would break the spell.
“I see.”
“Shouldn’t she be at least a little afraid of such a big dog?”
“I don’t think she’s afraid of anything,” Grady said. “I don’t think … well, I don’t think she even knows she should be afraid of some things.”
“What an odd idea.”
He frowned. “Yeah. Isn’t it? But there’s something about these two … something makes me think maybe they’ve never known real fear.”
Watching Puzzle stroke the wolfhound’s face, Cammy said, “If true, that would be the biggest difference about them. Everything alive knows fear.”
Leaving the cushions in disarray, Riddle sprang down from the sofa and, as if having noticed it only now, scurried to a Stickley desk that Grady had made during the first few months after his return to the mountains. It was a lovely walnut piece with hammered-copper hardware, ornamented with inlaid pewter.
Riddle sat on his hindquarters and with one finger repeatedly flicked the dangling copper pull on the right-hand door, which rang musically against the escutcheon plate.
In Cammy’s lap, Puzzle pushed Merlin aside and raised her head far enough to see what her companion might be doing.
Riddle turned his head to look at her.
For a moment, Puzzle held his stare.
Riddle moved to the left-hand door and flicked the dangling pull as he had flicked the first. Again, he turned his head toward Puzzle.
As before, she met his stare, and after a hesitation, he turned away from the desk.
By some subtle expression or even more subtle gesture that Cammy failed to register, they seemed to have communicated with each other regarding the desk.
Grady appeared to have the same impression. “What was that about?”
Riddle scampered to the purple bunny, snatched it with his teeth, raced out of the living room, into the vestibule, and up the stairs, squeaking the toy as he went.
Game for a chase, Merlin pursued him.