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The white dog scared Shadow more than the weird wind or thumping ice from the sky. The dog's body language threatened, and his tormented eyes and teeth promised pain.
He ached to follow September and Nikki back to the cement building, but couldn't allow this danger-dog to chase them. Shadow weighed less but the shorter dog's muscles, scars and smells told stories of bloody conquests. Shadow didn't dare turn away. He had to be brave and strong and create a furry barrier between the warrior dog and September. Nobody told him to do that. He simply knew.
Wind made it hard for a good-dog to hear. He strained to see September's progress. He wished he could smell or hear her but scent mixed together into swarms quickly scattered by rain. Ice hit him like Steven's fists during a rage, and Shadow winced and yelped with each blow. The white dog remained stoic and focused, though, ignoring cold thumps shooting from the sky, staring, staring hard at Shadow with pale eyes.
Shadow knew this territory belonged to the other dog. Shadow wouldn't want strangers in his place, either. He turned his head, and lowered his tail. He backed away, edging closer to the barn and September. With her out of sight, he didn't feel quite as brave.
The other dog stalked closer, snarling. His short white coat bristled, even the raw swollen wounds with little fur. He had only ragged stumps for ears, making it hard for Shadow to read his mood. The heavy chain swung from the dog's collar, and dragged furrows in the mud. He raised a forepaw, the leg crisscrossed with scars.
Shadow’s brow wrinkled, he licked his lips and again turned away, a silent declaration: no threat. The white's close cropped ears and frantic tail said one thing while his offered paw contradicted the message. Shadow yawned, and backed away, his placating signals obvious.
The other dog charged, stopped short, and placed the paw heavily across Shadow's shoulders. Close up, the dog’s sour stink of infection mixed with bitter rage.
The dog lunged at Shadow's throat.
Shadow ducked and whirled. A shattered tooth creased his skull and carved a ragged line down his cheek. Shadow snarled, his teeth snapped air, a warning despite the near miss.
The sky boomed. Big metal boxes tumbled and lurched toward him. Shadow yelped and danced sideways, but the cacophony elicited not even an eyelash twitched from the white dog. He stalked relentlessly forward, ignoring or unaware of the tower of black smoke twisting at the far end of the road. It chewed up and spit out trees, stones, and dirt as it staggered forward. Shadow's ears felt stuffed, so full they might burst.
Scarface sprang.
Shadow whirled, and left behind a mouthful of thick black fur in the other’s jaws. When a branch scuttled across the ground, Shadow spun away from the massive wind-torn limb. It lifted into the air, clubbed the white dog and spun up into the sky.
Scarface screamed a choked eerie sound that rivaled the storm's shriek. He threw himself onto his back in a silent plea, eyes screwed tight. He didn't fight, just accepted the beating sure to come. The sharp aroma of dog pee rode the wind.
Before the white dog's confusion cleared and he scrambled away from the approaching funnel, Shadow fled in the opposite direction, back to the barn, to September. He needed to be with her, and keep September safe if Scarface returned. She'd know what to do about the black wind, and the ice balls that turned the ground white.
Shadow put paws up on the car’s back window to peer inside. He barked, calling, pleading, don’t forget the dog.
But he'd disobeyed. He'd only wanted to keep her safe from the white dog. That was his job. He barked again, but September didn't come. He pawed the glass, then hopped down and frantically searched for a way under or around the car.
The two remaining metal boxes banged against each other, their lids lifting and slamming closed like hungry mouths. Shadow cried out as two ice missiles hit his flank and the car glass simultaneously. September didn't come.
Shadow raced for the meager shelter of the dumpster tipped on its side. He timed his movement until wind lifted the cover a dog's width, and dove inside the metal box. Ice balls pounded and echoed as they tried to batter their way inside. The box stank of fear, feces and misery.
The box lifted slightly, and fell. Again, and then again it tumbled and rolled one way, and back the other direction. Shadow yelped, wailed, and finally fell silent. He crouched against a corner and curled into a tight ball of misery. No light penetrated the metal box, and the icy scabrous floor, filthy with animal stink and blood, made him shiver. Sounds of the outside storm echoed and hurt his ears as the wind raged.
After a long time, longer than a good-dog could say, the wind slowed and finally stopped. The plink-thump-CRACK! of ice missiles disappeared. Shadow stood and shook himself, and flinched and yelped at the bruises and the hot sting from the bite slicing his face. He nosed the heavy lid, but it stuck on something outside the box and wouldn't open. Shadow barked, and pawed the lid with frustration. Trapped.
A growl answered, followed by a whine and a hollow thumping sound. Shadow sniffed. His hackles rose. Another dog shared the big metal box.
