Blame it on a lack of sleep. The other explanation wasn’t something to dig into right now.
The good news was the sky was brightening, or at least less ominous, so we tucked the survival blanket away and started walking. Luckily it was a relatively straight shot down the mountain so there was no direction to argue over.
Not that we had a map to work with anyway.
We were both carefully picking our footing in the mud when a track on the trail caught my eye. I paused and caught her shoulder when she came up beside me.
“Does that look like a wolf track to you?”
She glanced down and frowned, her hair plastered to herforehead. “Are there even wolves around here?”
“I’m not sure. Not something I thought to look into when I came here for a wedding.”
She snorted and glanced around. “We should just make lots of noise as we walk just in—”
A sound interrupted her sentence but it wasn’t the howl of a wolf. It sounded more like an excited bark.
We both turned and looked at each other, then toward the source of the sound. Through the remaining fog and dense trees there was a flash of white.
“Right there. What is that?”
The bark sounded again and my brain scrambled through lists of wildlife trying to place it. Then Wren laughed.
“It’s Tuck. Kara and Grant’s dog. It has to be.”
I squinted as the bark sounded again. Though I’d only seen the Great Pyrenees for a few minutes, she was probably right. “Think the thunder spooked him and he ran off?”
She shrugged. “We should see if we can catch him and bring him back with us. He’s a long way from home.”
I nodded. “Tuck,” I called, followed by a long whistle.
The white shape moved toward us but stopped a good fifty yards away.
I called him again.
His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth but he made no move to come closer.
“He’s mocking us,” Wren said. She crouched down. “Come here, sweetheart,” she cooed in a baby voice.
Tuck sat down and swished his tail but stayed where he was.
“I think you’re right.” Tuck was more stubborn than my boss, Flynt, back in Springwood.
“Tuck, come here,” I yelled, trying to inject more authorityinto my voice. He was used to listening to Grant so maybe if my voice sounded growly and rough like his the wayward dog would listen.
No such luck.
Tuck lowered his front end, stuck his butt in the air and stretched before looking back at us between his front paws, tail wagging.
“Yeah, he thinks this is a game now,” Wren said.
Stubborn or stupid, I tried the same tactic again.
“Tuck, come here!” I said, aiming for an authority I didn’t actually have. I punctuated the words by stepping toward him.
His tail wagged harder.
Wren snickered behind me.
