Cole jogged alongside Sloan, watching her technique and gently correcting anything he saw out of sorts. Maze was running with them, too. His silver coat had thinned in the warm, dry desert air. Matter of fact, much about Maze was thinned and wiry. He just hadn’t been the same after losing Meg. He was pining for her. He demanded to be left outside much of the time so he could sit and sniff the dry breeze. Sometimes, he’d just sit and howl painfully at the night sky. Other times, he would whine to be let out of the house, then take off, wandering farther and farther away, always in the same northern direction.
About two months earlier, Maze wandered off and didn’t come home all night. The next morning, everyone had gone looking for him. No one said it, but they were all terrified of something had happened to Meg’s coydog. When she came home, she would need him. He had to be there.
They searched for Maze the entire day. Finally, around dusk, Theo was driving north on a sand-covered road when he saw him. Maze had run seventy-two miles from their place just outside Giza to where Theo found him limping along the road leading toward the Mediterranean Sea. His formally regal head hung low and his tongue was swollen with dehydration. He whined, barked and howled when Theo tried to get him into the truck. Theo described a wild look in his eyes as he fought to be left to his journey, but eventually exhaustion made him give up.
No one needed to say it out loud. They knew Maze had been trying to track Meg’s scent—even across an ocean. He was so lonely for her. After he was brought home that day, he was a changed coydog. They could barely get him to eat. Instead of playing catch with the boys, he would just lie down, head between his paws. Periodically, he would whine and lift his nose to the air, desperately searching for Meg’s scent, then huff out of frustration and lay his head back down, dejected.
Every night he would curl up with the blanket Meg used to have on her bed. He was always so careful with it, shaping it in a doughnut form with his nose, stepping reverently into the nest, turning three times and curling himself into a ball, his nose buried into the material. The family would watch him as he performed his ritual every night and worried about him.
He was losing weight fast. Theo had taken to buying extra lamb chops and eggs to entice him to eat, and though he was starting to gain some weight back, his personality had changed irreversibly since that day on the highway. He distanced himself from the humans and metas except to allow the occasional scratch between the ears.
Eventually, Maze did allow little Danny near him—to scratch behind his ears and stroke his shedding fur. He seemed to relax when Danny played with him. The little boy often used him as a pillow or as a race car track by rolling his cars across his back.
Danny was everybody’s exception.
Cole forced himself back to thinking of the here and now. He blinked hard at Maze then looked back at the concentration in Sloan’s face.
“Now you’re thinking about holding your body just right; every step is a concentration. If you learn the right form from the start, your muscles will memorize the movement so running will be as effortless as breathing, but you have to learn correctly right from the start so you don’t injure yourself or have to unlearn bad habits.”
Sloan was listening intently. Always an excellent student, she took in what Cole was telling her and analyzed it based on her prior knowledge. Everything he was saying made sense to her logical mind.
“You’ve built some endurance with the martial arts, but running requires a whole different level of stamina.” He glanced down at his runner’s watch. “We’ve already run one mile, so we need to start slowing and cooling off. Tomorrow and every day after, we’ll go a little further. Pretty soon, you’ll be able to run a marathon, no problem.” He grinned at her, slowing his jog to a fast walk.
“You have a lot more running you want to do, don’t you?” Sloan breathed through her words, her pace slowing to a walk. She parked her hands on her slender hips until Maze nudged her with his wet muzzle, asking for a rare scratch between the ears. She smiled down at the coydog that ran without a leash and obliged his unspoken request.
Cole watched her as she cooled down. Being a female living in the heavily Muslim culture made her have to make some alterations to what she ordinarily would wear, but that didn’t stop her new curves from filling out her demure clothing. Her body had changed a lot from what it was three months ago. Now she was curvy. Her blond hair was even longer, pulled back in a tight pony at the back of her head. Her steel-gray eyes were as sharp as ever, matching her older look with a precision only God could create. Cole forced himself to look away from the fourteen-year-old girl.
She’s just a kid, Cole. However stunning or curvy, she’s just a kid.
“Um, yeah, but I’ll go for my run later tonight. I prefer to run at dusk,” he shrugged, starting back toward the house. Sloan fell into step beside him.
“Thanks for your help. I feel really good about learning how to run, conditioning my body physically.”
“Sure, glad to help. It gives me something to do anyway.”