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“Castor!” I call, but he doesn’t listen, and doesn’t even look back.
“Castor!” A male voice barks through the stillness, and Castor skids to a stop at Dare’s feet. “Sit!”
Castor sits obediently and immediately, poised in front of Dare.
I stare at him in awe.
“How did you do that?”
Dare looks up at me and I decide that he must be…. eleven? His hair is a bit shaggy, almost touching his shoulders even. But his eyes… his eyes haven’t changed.
Dark
Dark
Dark as night.
“You have to be firm,” he tells me, his voice clipped and British. “You have to be the boss. They’ve been trained this year, but they’re still puppies. You have to control him.”
I’m hesitant, because Castor is twice, maybe three times my size. Why would he listen to me?
“Call him,” Dare tells me. “Do it firmly. Say, Castor come.”
I do it, trying to mimic the sternness of Dare’s voice.”
Castor looks at me without moving, and Dare snickers.
“You’ve got to call him with authority, little mouse.”
My head snaps up. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a mouse.”
He laughs. “Then don’t act like one. Call him with purpose.”
My lip curls and I snap, “Castor, come.”
Castor gets to his feet and comes straight to me. He stands in front of me, waiting for my command. “Sit.”
He sits.
Like magic.
Dare smiles, and his teeth are very white. “See? He’s been trained. And I’m sure he remembers you. They were both trained with your scents.”
“Our scents?”
Dare nods. “Yeah, yours and your brother’s. Sabine kept a few of your shirts to use for them. It worked, didn’t it? He knew you?”
I nod and I can’t argue. He did know me. But it feels weird to know that my scent was being used without my knowledge this year, even though that’s dumb. My scent doesn’t belong to me. Not really. I put it out into the world, and once it’s released, it never comes back.
Dare walks to me, a little bit skinny, a little bit gawky, but he seems so sophisticated to me, so worldly. He’s three years older after all. The eleven-year olds at school won’t even look twice at me. Well, unless it’s to call me Funeral Home Girl. I cringe at the memory and Dare looks at me curiously.
“What?”
I swallow because I’ll never tell him of that particular shame. “Nothing. What are you doing out so early?”
He’s the one who seems to cringe now, but then he hides it. “It’s the only time I can come,” he shrugs, without explaining. “Don’t tell Sabine, ok?”
That seems like a dumb thing to ask because we aren’t doing anything wrong, but I agree. “Ok. What are you doing out here?”
