Sydney Rye
"Evidence is weak in the face of faith." Her accent played over my senses—lyrical, educated, trustworthy. "This is the only path."
She was convincing me. Controlling me.
Blue's growl drew my attention. His sharp bark brought me out of the haze for just a moment, an instant of clarity.
I'm a prisoner.
The other dogs in the cave stirred, their giant heads coming up, ears perking forward. But her voice continued, the soft, reassuring rumble of a distant, unthreatening storm, lulling me back into peace, settling the beasts around me.
We are all one pack.