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Karma rested, still exhausted but finally warm after what seemed a lifetime in the cold water. She nosed the empty bowl, and licked up the last drippings of broth.
Lia sat beside her on the cement, stroking her fur, murmuring words Karma didn’t know. That was okay, though, she understood the emotion. She was smart that way. Karma’s short tail responded with a happy wiggle at the girl’s attention. She didn’t even miss her mother or littermates—well, not much—and hoped she could stay in the office with the girl from now on. Karma would like that just fine.
“You spoiled your purple collar.” Lia tugged the soaked fabric over Karma’s head and tried to give her a hug, but Karma wiggled away. So Lia shut the crate and crossed to the door to the kennels. The other dog, Thor, slept on the other side of the room and didn’t rouse when she left.
Karma caught the scent of the strange black shepherd who still reeked of filthy water and seeping blood. She’d been half-asleep when carried into the office area but roused enough to see Shadow lift a lip in silent warning when the girl offered to touch his injured face. Karma wondered why he didn’t trust the girl. People knew things dogs couldn’t know. The girl had gentle hands and a soft kind voice. She’d pulled them both from the flood. And fed them good things. Karma thought Lia was wonderful.
She wanted to go see Shadow. Karma pawed and jiggled the front of the crate, and to her delight, it hadn’t latched. She pushed her blunt muzzle into the breach and squeezed through. The big black dog intrigued her. He made Karma’s tummy flutter and tail go faster when he looked at her. She wasn’t sure why.
Karma peeked around the doorway, not wanting to be discovered and shooed away. The nearest kennel housed Dolly and the rest of the puppies, and the shepherd was in the opposite run. He rested on a warm blanket that smelled of many other dogs, but he didn’t seem to mind. His black fur was longer than Karma’s seal-slick coat, and still matted with mud. One side of his face and neck looked raw and smelled rank. Karma wanted to go to him, maybe lick clean his hurts, but after hanging up the coiled lariat on the wall, Lia crouched beside him.
“Phones work again, and the internet.”
His long, furry tail thumped against the blanket.
She stroked his head, and when her hand came too close to his sore cheek, he ducked. “Sorry. Wish you’d let me treat that. Then, I’ll find your home.”
The black dog whined. He cold-nosed her arm. Karma shivered at the mournful sound, and crept closer.
“You want to go home, I know. I’m sorry, Shadow. You sure understand lots of words. Not everything, I know. But maybe you’ll catch some of what I say. If I picture it in my mind.” She half laughed. “Makes no sense, I know, but I’m sure we shared a connection, don’t you?”
He woofed, and licked her hand. His brow smoothed and Lia’s mouth made a surprised “oh” shape like she heard something Karma couldn’t detect. Finally she smiled. That made Karma feel better. Shadow recognized that Lia was special, too.
“It’s only been two hours. It’ll be two weeks or longer before things get back to normal.” The girl’s voice was calm and warm. “There’s no hurry. Besides, you need to get stronger.”
Karma jostled against the door, making it squeal, and the sound summoned the girl upright, so Karma scurried out of sight.
Lia hurried toward the office, and then turned back in the doorway. “I promised to take you home, and I will. If it comes to that, you’ll have a home here. With me and Thor.” Her voice caught. “And Karma.” Her voice broke, and she muttered the next words. “If I could keep her, I’d love her forever. You too, if you’d let me.” When she hurried back into the room, the door stayed ajar.
Karma wasted no time. She dashed out of hiding to squeeze through the opening. She hesitated, looking at the shepherd.
Shadow was so much bigger than her, twice as tall even while reclining. Karma turned her head away, licked her lips, and tucked her tail. For the first time in her life she wondered what to do. But then he tipped his head, and his massive tail swept the floor, beckoning her near.
She scrambled to reach him, wiggling her entire body. He nosed her, exploring from shiny wet nose to stubby black tail, and she flipped onto her back and waved rust-furred paws as he learned her scent. Delighted, Karma play-growled and snapped the air, catching Shadow’s lip and he winced and stood to get out of range. His legs trembled before holding true. She continued to pounce at him, energy recharged by his attention. Karma leaped high to lick his mouth and slurp his eyes with puppy adoration and respect, signaling deference in the instinctive ritual.
The bigger dog slowly waved his tail, nosing Karma especially around her tail. She wanted to sniff him there, too, and learn his scent-name that shouted louder than any words people used. But he maneuvered away from her attempts to sniff. He lifted Karma off her feet as he pushed her around with his prominent muzzle.
He looked different than her mother and siblings. Where their paws, muzzles and cheeks sported rich contrasting color, his longer fur was black all over. Karma’s ears tipped over, like every dog she’d ever seen, but Shadow’s ears pointed straight up.
And his tail—oh, his magnificent tail!—it spoke to her in a language Karma’s foreshortened version couldn’t match, with sweeping, elegant semaphore drawn through the air. Karma’s whole body wiggled in an effort to express herself.
The shepherd froze. He lifted his head, ears swiveling as his wagging tail stiffened and raised higher. The fur above his shoulders bristled and a low growl bubbled deep in his chest.
Karma started, and slicked her ears down before she understood his warning wasn’t directed to her. She pricked her own ears, standing shoulder to shoulder with the shepherd, and sniffed to discern what he already knew.
There—it came and went, riding the breeze. Her own hackles rose when furtive steps accompanied a familiar scent. An angry man lurked outside.
