He wears a blue military uniform and calls to me from across the room. It’s the same dream I had earlier, only with more detail this time. The soldier makes hand signals as if he’s giving me commands. When he turns, I see the initials AC on the sleeve of his uniform, and I’m overcome with an intense feeling.
Hatred.
I run toward him, and he shouts for me to stop, but I speed up and attack, diving for his midsection, jaws snapping.
“Wake up, Wild!”
I open my eyes to find a boy I don’t recognize facing me. I’m still in the dream, teeth bared, growling.
“It’s Chance! Remember?”
The boy seems to know me, but I don’t remember him. I see a human being, and the dream has me wanting to hurt humans, make them feel pain like I’ve felt. I open my mouth to attack—
I freeze with my jaws open, wanting to bite but fighting the impulse as my brain catches up to my body.
I blink and shake my head. The boy’s face slowly comes into focus.
“Chance, I’m sorry.”
He’s standing in the closet door, shaking with fear.
“Did I hurt you?” I ask.
The look on his face says it all. He’s not hurt; he’s terrified.
I yelp and put my head between my front paws, pressing my face to the ground in apology. I almost hurt this boy who’s done nothing but help me.
“You’re back,” he says, obviously relieved. “You didn’t seem like yourself for a second, Wild. You were like a whole different dog.”
I’m afraid he might be right. There’s a different dog inside me. A dog who rages and knows the taste of blood.
A bad dog.
“It was probably just a nightmare,” Chance says.
I’m not so sure. I’ve had memories of the blond soldier a few times now. None of them good.
“I have bad dreams, too,” Chance says. “They’re scary, but they’re not real.”
I want to believe him, but I’m not convinced.
He opens the door wide, inviting me to stretch my legs. He looks behind me to the floor.
“Hey, you stole my pillow.”
I lower my head and whimper.
“No big deal,” he says. “You can borrow it until we get a bed for you.”
He sits on the edge of the mattress and unplugs his cell phone from its charger. He stares at the screen.
“Like I said, I keep it on in case my mom needs to talk. We have a scheduled call every Sunday, but I worry about her, you know?”
I feel really bad for Chance. I can see he’s doing his best to deal with a difficult situation.
“She isn’t a bad person, Wild. She’s an addict. The drugs make you do things you wouldn’t do if you were thinking straight. That’s what she told me.”
I come forward to smell him better.
“She’s been clean for ninety days, so now we can have a hearing and the court might let us live together again.”
Chance slides down to the floor at the foot of the bed. He points to the room around us.
“This place sucks, Wild. I have to get out of here.”
He puts the phone back on the dresser.
“I wish you could understand me,” he says.
“I wish you could understand me, too.”
He yawns and climbs into bed.
“At least you’re a good listener,” he says with a laugh. “Maybe all dogs are. I don’t know exactly, because I’ve never had one before.”
He yawns again, then he rolls over and turns off the lamp. The room is lit by the glow of his cell phone.
“We’re going to find your home tomorrow. I have an idea where to start.”
His voice trails off, replaced by the sound of snoring.
A part of me wants to get closer to him. It’s a different kind of instinct, a softer one. For some reason, I don’t trust that feeling.
For now, it’s better to stay away, to protect myself.
After the nightmare I had, maybe I need to protect Chance, too.
I retreat into the closet and turn a couple of times to spread my scent before I’m ready to settle down.
I fall asleep, listening to Chance breathing, hoping the blond soldier does not visit me again in my dreams.