How Much is That Werewolf in the Window?

[FaithLeafCat]

Warren Booker pushes open the doors of Archway Animal Shelter, his bleach blond hair flopping over his eyes. His right eye is blind, and as he walks into the shelter, he accidentally bumps into the edge of the door due to lowered depth perception. He chuckles nervously and waves at the person behind the desk. "Hi. Uh . . . I'm here to adopt a dog."

Living alone in an apartment has started to get to him. Besides being more paranoid than normal, he's started to get lonely. A dog seems like a good pet to start with. He leans against the shelter's smooth tile walls, the chain necklace around his neck rattling as he glances over at a few nearby posters and cards on a bulletin board. He spots a Chihuahua on one of the cards and curls his lip.

He's not entirely sure what type of dog he wants, but one thing's for sure: it can't be small. He wants something that'll be able to protect him if need be.

Warren's brown eyes flick down as his phone vibrates in the pocket of his black cargo pants. He pulls it out, flashing the person behind the desk an apologetic smile before reading over a text. His jaw tightens. He's got another job offer.

It can wait for now. He clears his throat and looks back at the shelter worker. "Sorry. As I was saying, I'd like to adopt a dog, please. Have any big ones?"

 

[Peregrine]

There was cold concrete pressing against his belly, and the smell of shit and piss filled his nose. The dog laid sprawled out in one corner of a small kennel, staring blankly at the clear plastic he'd already stained with nose prints out of sheer boredom, which separated him from the aisle where people would soon be walking past. This was his first day out in the main adoption platform, his third after being picked up by the pound. Now that he'd been cleared as "in good health" after a series of positively humiliating veterinary checks, it was time for him to find a human to take him home, as soon as was possible.

The only good thing that had come from the past two days was that his long, black and tan fur was clean again. When he'd first started running, he'd rolled in just about everything he could find, from dirt and muddy water, to a half-rotten pile of food he'd found next to some restaurant dumpster. The smell had been almost intolerable to him, tempered only by the fact that a dog nose considered it 'interesting' rather than 'putrid', but it had helped slow down his pursuers, at least to an extent.

But it hadn't been enough for him to fully elude them, which had led him to the act of desperation that had landed him in this strange, clear cell he now inhabited. He'd found the Animal Control Officer entirely by accident, but immediately decided that the officer's vehicle would be by far the best way to get out of here. He'd ensured there was no way the slightly overweight, military-lookalike man would be able to miss him by rubbing his filthy coat all over the man's neat, pressed blue slacks, and then shaken a bit of something onto the man's shirt for good measure. He'd hopped up into the crate obediently the moment the officer had opened it, and had been whisked away to Archway Animal Shelter a few short minutes later.

It had bought him time. However, he didn't know how much time. The last thing he wanted was for one of his pursuers to walk into the shelter and adopt him. That meant he had to find a human, the sooner the better. He'd lay low at his new master's house for a few days, make sure the coast was clear, and then escape, going back on the run again. His pursuers would give up once he got deep enough into human territory.

But first, this all required a human.

Right on cue, he was able to make out the faint chime of the front door as it swung open, even over the incessant sound of barking that filled the shelter. The dog's earps perked slightly, and he pushed himself into an upright position, before trotting over to the glass door. Husky-blue eyes strained down the corridor as far as he could see, while his ears twitched to the sound of human voices.

Looking for a dog, he thought. Big. Perfect.

"Through the door to the right, labeled 'dogs'," the dog heard a friendly but slightly bored voice of the attendant respond. "All of our adoptable animals are currently on display in the kennels. The larger dogs are in the first kennels, the smaller ones past the second doorway. If you see any dogs you'd like to meet, note down the number on their information profile that's mounted to their kennel, and speak to the attendant that's at the other end of the kennel. They'll see about bringing the dog out into the yard or kennel for you to meet."

Come on, hurry up! The dog nearly yelped with impatience, before snapping his jaw shut in embarrasment at the noise. No one would have been able to tell it was him over the sound of all the other dogs, but he still conisdered the behavior beneath him. Instead, he focused on rubbing the tip of his nose in circles on the plastic. He wanted to meet the person he was going to charm into being his new master.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

"Thanks," Warren tells the person at the desk, saluting with two fingers and nodding his head. He can't help but feel relieved she's not really paying attention to him; she won't be able to recognize him from any of his past jobs. He sighs and starts walking back towards the door to the right.

He calls them jobs, but he knows full well he's referring to robberies, and not just small ones, either. Some of his notable accomplishments include burglaring the largest mansion in the state, stealing an antique car and selling it only a few miles away, and managing to break into a bank to swipe several bags of freshly printed bills.

The more success he's had, the more he's attracted the attention of people within the criminal community. First he'd only had one boss. Then he was referred to someone else, who mentioned him to his friends. Now he gets consistent calls from several different people, usually once or twice a week. Being a freelance burglar pays well, but he can't help but wish he had a regular job instead - something that doesn't seem possible after being arrested for one of his first crimes and getting a record.

Warren shoves the door open to the dog room and staggers back as he's showered in a cacophony of barks and yelps. He hadn't thought it would be so loud. He covers one ear and glances around, cautiously pacing the aisles. Each dog in turn is looked over and then walked by; most of them seem too lethargic or are too hyper for him to give them enough exercise.

Then he spots the Shepsky staring at him through one of the glass doors. The dog is focused on him intently, almost as though he's been waiting for him. Warren smiles and kneels down beside the glass, pressing a hand against it. "Hi, there, boy. Looking for someone to take you home?" he asks quietly.

He glances up at the number beside the dog's cage and nods. He's not sure exactly what, but something besides the dog's striking coat and eye color draws him toward him. He has a strong feeling he knows which dog he's going to leave with.

 

[Peregrine]

Just a kid. That was the first thought that passed through the dog's mind as a human rounded the corner and approached his kennel. He'd been able to track the boy's progress through the kennel based on the excitement of the other dogs, and had been able to somewhat use that to determine what the kid was looking for in a new pet. Nothing too anxious or loud, he passed quickly by those. But also nothing lethargic. If the dog didn't show some kind of engagement with him, even through the thick sheet of plastic, then it didn't catch his interest either.

Not particularly difficult requirements, at least not for him. Just sitting by the glass, watching him approach, was likely already sufficient to have gained his attention. Indeed, shortly after the human spotted him, he came walking over, kneeling down in front of the window. The dog cocked his head slightly to the side, tongue lolling out of his mouth cheerfully. When the human placed his hand on the glass window, the dog lifted his paw in turn, pressing it against the plastic in mirror.

Yeah, the dog thought, slightly sarcastically. Shake. I know that one. See, aren't I such a good boy? Aren't I adorable? Don't you want to pay whatever fee these human require to let me leave this place, so I'm not waiting here like a sitting duck? I know you do. There's a good human.

But of course, on a dog's face, none of his sarcasm came through. All the human would be able to see was the silly dog smile that all dogs with an open mouth and half closed eyes made. And that suited the dog just fine.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

Warren gasps in delight as the dog lifts his paw against the glass. "Whoa, you know shake? That's awesome! What a good boy." He glances at the number again before smiling at the Shepsky. "I'll be right back. Ma'am! I think I've found my dog!" he calls, hurrying down towards one of the shelter attendants.

An older woman with grey hair in a bun squints at him. "Your dog . . .? Did you lose one?"

"No, I mean - I know which dog I want. That Shepsky there in 102. He's perfect," Warren gushes.

The woman chuckles and shuffles over, grabbing a key and a collar and leash on the way. "He's an unusual one. Seems to be crate-trained, too - when Herbert caught him, he just walked into the box by himself." She unlocks the dog's door and whistles softly, trying to clip the leash and collar onto his neck. "You behave, now. This nice young man would like to take you for a walk. Play your cards right, and maybe he'll take you home," she adds with a wink.

Warren waits eagerly nearby, and he takes the leash from the woman with a wide smile. "All right, buddy," he tells the dog. "Do you know sit?"

 

[Peregrine]

The dog held still obediently as the shelter attendant entered his kennel with a leash. He'd been very careful to be kind and obedient for all of the shelter staff, giving them no reason to delay his potential adoption date. Well, none except one, when he'd snapped at the vet when she'd approached him from behind with a…

Pushing that thought out of his head, the dog stood still while the woman clipped on his lead, forcibly resisting the urge to scratch at the collar that itched around his throat. He stayed close to her side, drifting a bit to smell at various points in the hallway like a normal dog, but never putting tension on the leash, as she took him to one of the side yards for people to meet dogs in a more private setting. Then, she handed him over to the young man.

The dog stared up at him for a couple of seconds, before sitting down. Oh great, he thought. Basic obedience training all over again. The shelter people had already put him through his paces when he'd first showed up. Sit, lie down, shake, stay, come, heel. However, he'd firmly drawn the line when it came to 'roll over'. There was no way he was going to be showing his belly to a group of random strangers, just because they wanted him to. He might be obedient, but he wasn't about to degrade himself because of it.

The shelter worker smiled from where she was watching from the sidelines. "He's been very well trained. Almost certainly belonged to someone else in the past, but he wasn't wearing a collar, didn't have an ID chip, and we haven't found any missing dog reports either. Best thing we can do now is try and find a new home for the handsome boy."

 

[FaithLeafCat]

"I can tell," Warren says. He kneels down again and ruffles the dog's ears. "Someone sure loved him. Or at least they trained him well." He jumps as his phone vibrates again, and out of habit, he pulls it out and reads the text.

One of his bosses is asking about a shipment of jewels that he hasn't had time to steal yet. Apparently, one of his other customers is getting impatient. Warren sets his jaw and swallows. He'd better finish this job first before starting the new one.

He snaps back to attention as he realizes the dog is still sitting quietly at his side. Warren smiles and heaves a deep sigh. "You're a good, calm boy, aren't you? I appreciate that. I think we'll get along great. Now, what to name you . . .?"

Warren stands and tilts his head, rubbing his chin. "Hmm, maybe Tucker? Or how about Gus or Ollie? Like any of those?" He clicks his tongue and starts walking, but he's careful not to put pressure on the leash yet. "Heel, boy. Let's go for a - " Before he can finish his sentence, his lack of depth perception sends him slamming into a metal pole. ". . . Ow," he mutters as he stumbles back.

The attendant nearby stifles a laugh and turns to head for the door. "I'll go get some adoption papers and supplies ready," she says.

 

[Peregrine]

The dog couldn't help but roll his eyes internally at this new master of his. For being a tall kid with punk hair and a ruined eye that would probably terrify most elementary school students, he was surprisingly innocent and clumsy. All the same, he remained obediently by the boy's side, pressing up against his leg in apparent concern. All people liked a caring, protective dog that was obedient without them having to train it. The dog was confident that no one would be able to resist such a combination, let alone this kid who behaved all too eager for company.

The adoption procedures went quick and easy from there. The shelter worker led him and the boy back to the front desk, where his new human had to provide id and the adoption fee. As soon as that was complete, the desk worker handed over a stack of paper, primarily consisting of his clean bill of health from the vet and vaccination certifications, along with papers for recommended care of a large dog. And, quick and easy as that, they were out of here.

"Take good care of him, Warren," the desk attendant said as they walked away. "And congratulations on your new dog."

 

[FaithLeafCat]

Throughout the entire adoption process, Warren can't help but grin like an idiot. He already feels so much better about his small house. Now instead of coming home to a pile of dirty dishes, he'll be hearing the happy sounds of barking.

He takes the papers from the attendant and nods, stuffing them into his pocket. "Thanks so much! He's going to be spoiled rotten. I promise you." He whistles to the dog and starts walking towards the door. "Heel, buddy! C'mere, good boy! Guess who's got a big rawhide bone waiting for you in the car?"

It doesn't take long for Warren to drive the dog back to his home. He pulls up into a short, cracked driveway and parks the car. A small yellow house sits in a patch of long grasses and weeds. An old stone pathway is overgrown with moss, and a tall oak fans out over most of the yard. A solid wood fence encloses the area.

Warren pulls the car door open and smiles at the dog. "Here we are, Buddy! Welcome home. Want to come try out a few brands of dog food and see what you like best?" He takes the dog's leash and brings him inside, where the first room is a kitchen. Several bowls are laid out on the floor, each with a different type of food. "Go on. Help yourself," Warren adds, unhooking the dog's leash.

 

[Peregrine]

The dog moved slowly into the house, talons clicking against the floor. It wasn't much compared to some human houses he'd seen, wasn't much even compared to some shifter houses he'd seen, but it was clean and would be comfortable enough for a couple days, and that was all that mattered. Frankly as long as he had a roof over his head, he'd probably be happy.

He'd left the rawhide bone in the car mostly untouched, licking it occasionally out of curiosity but finding the wet sensation after he chewed it for a bit entirely unpalatable. He felt pretty much the same way about the bowls of dog food in the kitchen. Instead he disregarded them, choosing to sniff around the space instead. There was almost no other human smell in the house other than the boy. Warren. That meant no one else was living here, which would make it easier for the dog to get out of here when the time came.

But even at the human's prompting, the dog couldn't bring himself to take interest in the bowls of food. He and his former pack might have lived on the edge of human society, hiding in places they wouldn't be found or noticed, but that didn't mean they didn't have a high standard of living, or strong cooking skills. Even though he knew it was only going to be a couple days, he had every intention of getting his paws on proper food, and only eating this stuff if he was left with absolutely no alternatives. Considering how much this human already seemed to dote on him, he didn't think it would be that hard of a task.

So, after sniffing one of the bowls for a moment, he backed away and sat down, staring at the human with his head tilted to the side. Well, human, he thought. Take good care of me for the next couple days.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

Warren sets the leash aside on the kitchen counter before flopping into a nearby chair, eagerly watching to see which brand of dog food his new pet will go for. He blinks in surprise when it turns out to be none of them. ". . . Huh. Well, you are a well trained dog," he decides at last. "I bet your last owner fed you way higher quality stuff."

He heads for the freezer and yanks it open, rubbing his chin. "Maybe you'd like a steak? Steak's probably safe for dogs." He pulls out the cut of meat and sets to work defrosting it.

While the meat is dethawing, Warren takes his new dog on a tour of the house. ". . . so that's the bathroom, and your dog bed is right here in the bedroom," he finishes, gesturing to a large fluffy dog bed at the foot of his own bed. He grins and pats the bed. "You wait here. I'll be right back with your dinner."

It doesn't take long for Warren to return with an entire cooked steak meal, which includes a sauce, several basil leaves, and a bowl of water on the side. "There you go, buddy," he murmurs, setting it on the floor. "Maybe you'll like that better." He yawns and rubs his eyes. "I think I'm going to start heading to bed . . . see you in the morning," he adds.

Warren grabs some pajamas and heads for the bathroom. Then he returns to the bedroom and flicks the lights off, yawning widely before crawling into bed. It doesn't take more than a few minutes for him to fall fast asleep, breathing lightly.

 

[Peregrine]

Steak's good, the dog found himself unconsciously thinking, as he followed the human into the kitchen and sniffed at the packaging. It was tight enough sealed at the moment that even his sensitive nose couldn't pick up much of a smell, which made it easy for him to follow the human around the rest of the house. It wasn't a huge space, and he probably would have been able to figure out where was where easily enough on his own, but he certainly didn't care enough to deny Warren the pleasure.

But he did flop down on the dog bed almost as soon as Warren walked away, letting out a huff. This was... good. Certainly much better than the hard concrete he'd slept on at the shelter, or the asphalt or dirt of the city when he'd been on the run. If he wasn't careful, he'd really miss this when it was time for him to head out. He had to be careful not to let himself get too spoiled.

A small whimper slipped past the dog's lips without his meaning to when the smell of the cooking steak floated up towards the upper floor. For all his elitist behavior towards the dog food, it had now been well over a week since he'd eaten anything even remotely palatable, let alone something that actually tasted good. He buried his nose in his paws, trying to block out the smell a little bit, but the silly behavior did absolutely nothing to help his plight.

Don't get used to this, he said silently. Don't you dare...

But as soon as the plate was set in front of him the dog found himself on his feet and at the edge of the plate, any vestiges of dignity or self control gone at the sight of it. He took wolfish bite before he fully realized what he was doing, snapping a couple of times as he pulled the chunk of steak up into his mouth. Only the sight of the sauce splattering the floor caused him to slow down, and then he was careful to chew his food thoroughly, and not make a mess. When he was done, something that only took a few minutes despite his attempts to slow down, he licked both the plate and the floor clean, careful not to miss a single drop.

When he looked up again, the dog found that Warren had already changed and gone on to bed. He sighed slightly, mixed emotions coursing through him. How long had it been since anyone had treated him that good.

It's just temporary, the dog scolded himself. If I stay here, they'll find me. But... he shook himself slightly, before laying back down on the dog bed. I might as well take advantage of this while I'm here. Not like I'll be able to find high quality steak when I'm on the run.

Able to relax fully for the first time in who knew how long, it didn't take long for the dog to follow his new master into dreamland.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

The next morning, the smell of eggs and waffles wafts through the house. Warren's cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Once the dog wanders out, he smiles and waves. "Hey, Buddy! I think I'll call you Buddy. You like that name?" he asks.

He sets a platter down stacked high with both eggs and syrup covered waffles. "I know this isn't super good for you . . . but it's your first morning here. What can it hurt?" he asks.

Once he's sure his dog is eating, Warren sits at the table nearby to dig into his own breakfast. "Great news, by the way," he adds. "I'm off work, so we can spend the whole day walking and exploring the town. And then we can get your coat brushed when we get home. Sound good?" he asks.

Warren watches Buddy quietly, and he heaves a deep sigh. He has no idea owning a pet would be this cathartic. He hasn't even worried about the job he has to get done by midnight. He smiles and turns his phone off, settling in to polish off the rest of his breakfast.

Once he's cleared both his and Buddy's plates, he heads for the door and picks up the dog leash with a soft whistle. "Here, Buddy! Want to go for a walk?" He pushes open the door once the dog is leashed and heads outside.

The backyard grass is sparkling with dew. In broad daylight, it's easier to see the large hole in one corner of the fence, as well as an old wooden shed that's practically buried in vines and moss. The rest of the street is quiet and fairly open. And from the scents of prune juice, homemade soaps, and laundry out on lines, it's easy to tell that a lot of elderly people live nearby.

 

[Peregrine]

The dog woke up several times throughout the night, disturbed by soft noises and convinced that he'd been found. It would always take him a couple minutes of soft silence before he'd be able to convince himself that those shadowy figures coming for him were nothing but figments of his imagination, and he'd be able to fall asleep again.

What that meant was he was also awake the instant Warren began to stir. He watched the human get up from his own position on the dog bed, cold blue eyes tracing every movement, ears twitching occasionally. However, when Warren headed out of the bedroom, the dog hauled himself to his feet, quietly following after him.

It appeared that it hadn't taken Warren long to adjust to the fact that his new friend was going to be eating human food along with him, and the dog cast a superior look at the bowls of dog food briefly once the plate of waffles was set in front of him. He happily began to eat, swallowing an entire waffle at a time before slowing down to chew. Luckily for the dog, he didn't have to worry about accidentally eating something that was supposed to be poison for dogs while joining in on Warren's meals. It was one of many advantages he had over normal dogs, the ability to eat a much wider variety of food safely.

The dog once again licked his plate completely clean once the meal was gone, and licked the floor around the plate for good measure to make sure he hadn't missed any drops of syrup or yolk.

For several moments after Warren called him over, the dog simply sat there, staring at him with his head tilted slightly. He was not at all sure what he thought about this name the human had given him. It was... childish, almost demeaning.

It also doesn't matter, he reminded himself with a mental sigh. You gave up any right to a name when you fled. Besides, it's only for another couple days. You wouldn't have any right to complain even if he decided to call you Twinkletoes McFuzzybutt. Not the way he's feeding you.

Panting slightly, 'Buddy' pushed his way back to his feet and walked over to Warren, accepting the leash with good graces, even if he'd rather not have to deal with the way it tugged at this all-too-detestable collar. But, he'd make do. Glancing back at his human, the dog led the way to the front door.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

Warren smiles and nods, ruffling the dog's ears. "You're a good dog, Buddy. I like you already." He follows after the dog out onto the quiet street. As far as he's concerned, the dog can walk where he likes. He only pulls the leash gently a few times, and even then, it's only after he's called the dog to heel.

He brings Buddy to all of his favorite places in town, including a restaurant called The Greasy Spoon where they stop for lunch, a small park with a water fountain to splash in, and a thrift store where Warren buys a knife to add to his collection.

By the time Warren starts to get tired, it's almost nine at night, and the small town is covered in the soft hazy blanket of dusk. Warren pulls his phone out to check it and gasps. "Oh, man! I had it switched off all day?! Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot - !"

He boots it back up as fast as he can and scrolls through the messages. Then he heaves a sigh of relief. No bad news yet, except that his boss is getting impatient. He laughs nervously and starts heading for a back alleyway. "Uh, come on, Buddy. Let's take the scenic route home."

He pokes his head cautiously around the corner. No one's in view. He relaxes only slightly, taking a few steps into the alley with shaking hands. Still nothing happens. Warren lets himself slip into a casual walk, deciding he's been fairly silly to have gotten so paranoid over nothing.

He doesn't hear the pair of men walk up behind him until one yanks him back by the shoulder. "Hey. You this 'Booker' I keep hearing about?" he asks.

Warren steps back and nods, his good eye searching the man's face. Does he know him? It doesn't appear so. The man has wrinkled skin, deep set eyes, and a rough brown beard that conceals most of his expression. Maybe he's a new customer. "Yeah, I'm Booker. Who are - "

The man slams him against a wall before he can finish his sentence, evicting a gasp of surprise. "Don't matter who I am. Boss wants his order. Where is it?"

"H - hey! Take it easy, I have until midnight!" Warren says shakily. He tries to wrench himself free from the man's grip, the bricks of the wall grating against his back. He stiffens when the man draws a blade and presses it against his neck.

"Yeah? Well, where's it stashed?"

Warren swallows. "I . . . I can bring it to the boss. No worries. Look, I still have a few hours!" he whimpers.

"Change of plans. You tell us where the order is, or this knife is going to be in your airway. Permanently."

 

[Peregrine]

Almost in spite of himself, the dog found himself enjoying this stroll through human life. His pack had always done their best to keep everyone separated from humanity, for everyone's safety. Of course, sometimes members would go out, sneak into human society and come back with traces of their life. A scented candle, a phone that would soon run out of battery. Clothes, blankets, towels. Sometimes they'd come back with food, which the chefs might try and imitate if they were feeling creative.

But he'd never actually been in human culture until he'd run away, and even then he'd been more concerned with shaking off his pursuers than he had with seeing what exactly human life was like. Now that he finally got to see it... it both was and was not like the stories he'd heard. He knew about cars, electricity, the internet, how everything in human life was made to give them ease and comfort, as long as they had enough money. But, until now, he'd never gotten to see, smell, taste what that would be like.

If the day he'd spent with Warren was any indication, it must be heaven. Just hand over a little slip of paper for all the food you could eat, all the comforts you could ever want.

As the sun was starting to set, the dog glanced up at Warren more and more frequently. The kid was a good kid, he had to give him that, but after being on the run for so long, and eating so little when he was doing so, he was more than ready to head back home, get fed a good meal, and then curl up at the foot of the bed and rest for the evening. Warren himself seemed somewhat surprised to realize how late it had gotten, and was quick to start hurrying them home, with which the dog was more than happy to comply.

However, he noticed the humans coming down the alleyway almost as soon as they stepped out of the shadows. The dog watched them approach, until they suddenly grabbed Warren and threw him up against the wall. The dog tensed, his ears dropping back as he listened to their conversation. Maybe Warren wasn't quite as good of a boy as he'd suspected. Whatever this situation, it wasn't something he had any intention of getting tangled in.

That was, at least, until the other man pulled out a knife. Hey! the dog barked. I need him to feed me for a couple more days!

The human threatening Warren disregarded his objections, while the second one aimed a kick at his ribs, which he skittered sideways to avoid. A growl was coming up out of his throat, warning the humans to back off or face the consequences.

They ignored him.

The dog crouched down slightly, gathering his legs under him, before he sprung forward, slamming into the shoulder of the man threatening Warren and knocking him to the side. As he was stumbling, the dog dropped down digging sharp teeth into the man's calf. He yelled and toppled, and then the dog was on top of him, teeth snapping faint centimeters away from his face.

How about this for a change of plans? the dog barked. You fuck off, and I don't rip your damn throat open.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

The man screams in agony as Buddy's teeth pierce his leg, and he sinks to the ground in shock. It takes him a few minutes before he starts trying to push the dog's muzzle away from his face. "Hey! Hey, get your crazy dog off me!" he screams.

Warren sinks back against the brick wall, panting. "I . . . uh . . . enough, Buddy," he stammers at last. He's not entirely sure the dog's going to listen to him. Still, he has probably saved his life, and he's still reeling from that fact alone.

The other man scowls at the entire scene and huffs. "You win this time, Booker," he snaps. "But the second time you're late with the boss' order, you'd better watch your back. You and that mutt."

Warren nods blankly, wiping his forehead as he watches the first man stalk away. His whole body is trembling. He'd never gotten a death threat because of his work before. Why was this order so important?

He sits down on the pavement with one hand on his head, trying to calm down. "Heel, Buddy. Let him go," he murmurs. He'd better get the order for the boss, and fast. He can't risk another run in. Not if it'll put Buddy in danger, too.

 

[Peregrine]

The dog barked a couple of extra times for good measure, just to make sure he'd gotten his point across, before he jumped down from standing on the man's chest. He took a couple of steps to return to Warren's side, before sitting himself next to the young man, quietly panting.

However, he didn't look away from the two men until they'd gone fully out of sight. Only then did he turn his gaze towards Warren, who'd dropped down to the pavement. If he'd been human, his expression would have been some combination of bemusement and ridicule. As a dog, though, he figured he just looked bored. What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into, human?

Well, it wasn't his concern. He'd done a good deed, bought the kid some time in payment for the food he'd received.

 

[FaithLeafCat]

Warren swallows back the lump in his throat as the dog quietly sits beside him. He'd listened to him almost at once. He reaches out and wraps the dog in a warm hug, shivering more with fear than cold. "Good boy, Buddy," he whispers. "Good dog. I'm giving you the best dinner ever tomorrow."

He pauses and glances down at his phone. "For now, though . . . we'll have to stay out a little later. I want to see why the boss is so upset about this one order."

He whistles to the dog and staggers to his feet. Then he starts heading for the abandoned pier at the north end of town, the salty sea breeze wafting across the boardwalk. Warren walks down the row of warehouses, scanning each in turn. "Number nine . . . number eight . . . Ah! Number seven. This is the one."

Warren paces around the building, wincing as he presses his hand against the rough rotting wood. "Doesn't seem very stable. Buddy, I don't suppose you can find an easy way in?" he asks wishfully. He starts examining the windows to see if any are broken, not actually watching his dog.

 

[Peregrine]

The dog flinched at the hug, the action so much a surprise that, for a moment, he forgot that the boy was just a human and not one of the people chasing him. But he caught himself before he snapped or tried to pull away. Dogs like hugs from people they trust, he reminded himself. Or, at least, they tolerate them.

So that's what he did, quietly tolerating the hug until Warren released him and got back on his feet. The dog stood up and moved to his side again, before they set off.

Going to let me in on the secret, now are you? The dog thought with traces of humor. Now what would you do if I was a spy?

But, the thought was nothing more than passing humor, and dark humor at that. Things like that were precisely the reason his pack was careful to keep hidden, and why his pursuers would back off once he got too far into human territory. They couldn't risk detection, not even for a traitor like him.

The pier was quiet. Vaguely austere. It was the kind of place the dog could easily imagine hiding himself for a few days. Whatever Warren had gotten himself involved in, he'd certainly found a place that almost reeked with the potential for crime. The dog studied the ruined warehouse with a critical gaze. You sure you want to go in there, human? his eyes tilted up towards the boy, who was clearly ignoring or oblivious to him. Looks like the whole place could come down on your head.

It didn't take much sniffing on his part to catch the scent of other humans that had been in the area. A few steps, and that smell led him to a wooden crate, which he pawed at curiously. Behind it, he could smell heavily rotting wood, and more human scent. A faint, piercing yelp came from his throat, a noise clearly designed more for attention than out of fear or pain.

Hurry up and move this box, he yelped again. I want to go home and get that food you promised.