––––––––
“Honey? Honey?” Ruffster suddenly loomed out of the mist. “What happened to you, mate? We thought you were right behind us!”
Honey spat out some remaining earth from her mouth and gave herself a good shake. Ruffster jumped back as soil and slobber flew in all directions.
“I got stuck under the fence,” said Honey.
Ruffster looked back at the hole scraped under the fence. “Festerin’ fleas, I’m always forgettin’ how much bigger you are. Sorry, mate. Should have stayed to help you.”
“It’s OK. Which way?”
“We’re followin’ the fence,” said Ruffster as he led the way. “Best way not to get lost.”
They caught up with Suka and Biscuit at the other corner of the arena building. Honey was relieved to see that the ground here sloped down from the field, leaving a wider gap under the lowest bar of the fence. By sucking her stomach in, she was able to crawl through this time relatively easily. Once back out of the field, she led her friends down the west wall of the arena building until they came to the side-door in the wall. A row of lavender bushes grew alongside the arena wall, stopping just by the side door, and Honey headed for the last bush on the end.
“I buried them here,” she said, starting to paw the earth.
Ruffster dived in and, a few minutes later, they stood looking down at the scraps of paper he had unearthed. The ground was damp from the rain and there were also the places where her drool had soaked into the paper as she carried it in her mouth. Honey was dismayed to see that some of the letters were blurred.
“Can you make any sense of them?” she asked hopefully.
“How do you know they’re not just stupid scraps o’ paper?” asked Ruffster, peering at the letters. “Looks like a load o’ gibberish to me.”
“I’m sure they hold an important message,” insisted Honey. “We just have to work it out.”
“They look like ... like the kind of words on bottles and boxes and things,” said Suka, tilting her head to look at the scraps of paper. “Not like when humans write words by their hands.”
“Yes, you’re right.” agreed Honey. “Printed words. All the letters are neat and the same size—and in a funny colour. Sort of orangey-pink ...”
“Maybe the letters used to be red and the colour has faded,” Biscuit suggested. “They look old.”
“I think they’re from ten years ago—from that last show before the fire,” Honey said. “Do they smell of anything?”
Biscuit sniffed. “Just old. And that black, burnt smell.”
“OK, let’s try to work out the message,” said Suka, moving the scraps around with her nose. The others watched her work silently. Finally she sat back and they looked at what she had done. The fragments of paper were laid out in two rows. Suka had rearranged the scraps and put several pieces together, so that now the letters read:
Ruffster stared at the scraps. “Still doesn’t make sense, mate. Who’s Don? And Mable?”
Suka shrugged. “Maybe they’re names of show dogs?”
“What’s a caye?” asked Honey.
“I think I ate some caye once,” said Biscuit, wrinkling his nose at the memory. “It wasn’t very nice. It made my mouth burn.”
“That’s not caye, that’s cayenne pepper,” said Suka, rolling her eyes. “I know what a caye is. I read about them in one of my Boy’s school books. They’re like small, sandy islands. There are lots of them in the sea around this place called Florida. They also call them keys, sometimes.”
“Huh?” said Ruffster, scratching his ear. “I thought keys are those things that open doors?”
“They are, but this is the same word with a different meaning.”
“But what do small, sandy islands have to do with a dog show?” asked Biscuit.
“Maybe that’s not the right word anyway,” suggested Honey. “Let’s try the letters in a different order.”
“Well, all right,” said Suka, grudgingly. “You try it then.”
“Let me try!” Ruffster said eagerly. After a minute, he sat back and everyone looked at the paper fragments again.
Honey cocked her head and wrinkled her brow. She didn’t want to say it, but the words seemed to make even less sense now.
“What’s a dutimab?” asked Biscuit. “Is it a kind of kebab?”
“This is even worse than what I did!” said Suka.
“Fine,” grumbled Ruffster. “See if you can do better.”
Suka looked at Honey. “Why don’t you have a go?”
Honey pawed one of the pieces hesitantly. Then slowly, she began moving them around. Finally, Honey stepped back and everybody looked down at the letters again. This time, they read:
“Flammable ...” read Ruffster. “What’s that mean?”
“I’ve seen that word on lots of bottles that Olivia has in the bathroom,” Honey explained. “Like one big bottle which she sprays on her hair.”
“Yeah, yeah—my Missus has bottles of things with that word on them,” said Biscuit, getting excited. “There’s one that really stinks. She puts it on her toes after she’s made them red, to take the red colour off again.”
“Mate, she makes her toes red—and then takes the colour off again?” Ruffster looked puzzled.
Biscuit shrugged. “Humans do weird things.”
“I’ve seen that word too,” said Suka. “I know what it means. If something is flammable, it means it can catch fire easily.”
Ruffster took a hasty step away from the paper fragments.
“Not these scraps,” said Honey reassuringly. “But maybe these bits of paper were stuck on something that was flammable.”
“Like what?” asked Ruffster.
Honey thought back to the cluttered storeroom. There were so many things in there, how could she know which one the paper fragments could have been stuck on?
“What about the other words?” asked Suka. “Who’s Don?”
“Maybe he’s a white dog?” suggested Biscuit. “It says ‘white don’.”
“No, no, wait—” said Ruffster excitedly. “It’s not ‘don’—quick, swap the letters ‘on’ for the letters ‘ye’! And then move ‘flammable’ to the end of the row.”
Honey did as she was told. They looked again. Now the letters spelled:
“That’s it!” cried Suka, wagging her plumed tail. “You’ve solved it, Ruffster! Now every word makes sense. The message is: ‘WHITE DYE CAUTION: FLAMMABLE’. These scraps of paper probably came from a bottle of white dye,”
“But I don’t understand,” said Honey, disappointed. “Why would the Phantom Hound want to tell me that? What does it mean?”
They all looked at each other blankly. Nobody had an answer.
Ruffster gave a disgusted grunt and said, “I told you this Phantom Hound thin’ is a waste o’ time.”
“No,” said Honey. “I’m sure he’s trying to tell me something important. We’ve just got to figure out what it is.”
“Well, maybe we ought to figure it out back at the caravan,” said Suka. “Anja’s probably wondering where we are now—if she hasn’t been found out already.”
They quickly reburied the scraps and then retraced their steps to the fence and the field. This time, Ruffster stayed behind to wait for Honey as she crawled through under the fence. As she stood up, she realised that the mist had thickened. It was hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. Already, she couldn’t see Suka and Biscuit ahead of them. She was glad they had the fence to guide them, otherwise it would have been easy to wander off and get lost in the field.
“You really think those scraps mean somethin’?” asked Ruffster sceptically as they set off.
Honey nodded. “I’m sure they do. The Phantom Hound led me straight to the storeroom. I think he’s trying to help me, trying to tell me who’s behind these attacks on the show dogs. Remember, Biscuit tracked the scent from the fake Peemail to that storeroom. And besides, the door was open and I’m sure other dogs had been in there. I’m sure Colette—” Too late, Honey caught herself.
“Colette?” Ruffster’s ears perked up. He had been walking slightly ahead of her, but now he turned around and looked at Honey eagerly. “You saw Colette?”
Honey hesitated. “No, I didn’t see her. But I know she was skulking outside the storeroom when I was in there. I heard her—and I picked up her scent. She’d snagged a bit of her coat on the door jamb.”
Ruffster stiffened. “What are you sayin’?”
“Ruffster, don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence the way she keeps turning up at these events? First that time in the rain ... and now in the storeroom ...”
“Yeah, but you could say that about me,” argued Ruffster. “Those other dogs who were gangin’ up on me earlier—they thought I was guilty ‘coz I was always around when dogs got hurt. Doesn’t mean I had anythin’ to do with it.”
“I suppose so,” Honey agreed reluctantly. She paused and looked at the swirling mist around them. Somehow, while they were talking, they seemed to have drifted away from the fence. She couldn’t see it at all now. “Ruffster ... where’s the fence?” she whispered.
Ruffster furrowed his brow. “Reckon it’s that way ... No, wait. This way ... Uh ... no, must be this way.”
He set off confidently into the mist and Honey followed. It was strange walking into that wall of white. She strained to see ahead, peering between the swirling vapour, sniffing the air uneasily.
“Are ... are you sure it’s this way?” Honey asked Ruffster, hurrying to keep up with him.
“Yeah, mate,” said the mongrel mutt, although his ears were starting to droop.
He picked his way carefully over the boggy ground. The grass seemed to be thinning out now, with the ground getting muddier and muddier. The constant rain over the last few days had flooded the field. Honey stumbled and stepped into a puddle, wrinkling her muzzle as cold water splashed up into her face. The mud made a sucking sound as she pulled her paws out of the water. She looked around, trying to find a drier piece of ground to step on, but everything around her seemed equally waterlogged. In fact, somehow they seemed to have ended up in some kind of marshland.
“Ruffster—”
He looked back.
“I think we’ve gone wrong,” said Honey. “I smelled fresh water earlier—I think there’s a river at the bottom of the field and we’ve ended up near it. Look.” She scanned the area around them. “The grass here is different. It looks more like reeds. And the ground is getting all boggy and marshy ... I think we should turn around and head back the way we came.”
Ruffster looked around. “Yeah, but which way is that?”
Honey followed his gaze into the thick, swirling mist around them and felt a chill of fear slide down her spine. Are we lost?
“Wait, I think I can see somethin’,” Ruffster said excitedly. “Reckon the fence is over there. C’mon!”
He turned and plunged to the right. There was a splashing, sucking sound and the next minute, Ruffster sank from sight.
“Ruffster?” Honey cried. “Ruffster!”
There was nothing but a soft sucking, squelching sound.
Honey stumbled forwards to where Ruffster had been. The ground shifted beneath her paws. She stopped, panting heavily, her eyes wild. Where was he?
The muddy bog in front of her suddenly exploded and a brown shape burst out, gagging and gasping for breath. It was Ruffster, covered in mud, paddling frantically to keep his head above the bog.
“Ruffster! Oh, Great Dog Star—are you all right?” Honey asked.
Ruffster panted and flailed in the mud, churning it with his front paws, but the more he struggled, the more he seemed to sink back into the bog. The mud rose up to his chin. Honey saw the whites of his eyes as he whined in fear.
“Hang on—I’m coming to help you!” Honey rushed forwards, then stopped as she felt the ground slide beneath her paws. There was that awful sucking sound again and then she felt her paws go deeper into the mud.
No.
She tried to pull back, but the mud clamped around her legs like a giant sucking mouth. Panic shot through her. She looked desperately at Ruffster, who was almost completely buried in the mud now. All she could see of him was the tip of his nose, his eyes, and his one upright ear. Honey whimpered, her heart pounding, as the mud squelched around her. She felt her body move again and then a clammy coldness rising to her elbows. She realised what was happening.
She was sinking.