Tangled

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12 Ava: Husky (I)

I turn the key in the lock, the familiar click signaling the start of another day at The Novel Grind. Mrs. Elkins is reading a book in one of our plush,

overstuffed armchairs, content to let me take over her morning chores.❤

“Keep the door open, dear,” she says, flipping a page and squinting through her bifocals. “An open door brings traffic, and it’s such a nice morning.”

The heavy door is a beast to prop open, and I wonder how Mrs. Elkins has managed all these years. Eventually, I find the sweet spot to jam the doorstop in, but sweat is gathering in my armpits by the time I figure it out.

I take a moment to breathe in the pine–fresh air, enjoying the chill that curls into my lungs as the sun warms my face. A soft whine catches my attention and I glance down in surprise at the silver husky sitting just outside the door, its tail thumping gently against the sidewalk.

The dog’s eyes are a blue so light that they almost

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12 Ava: Husky (1)

seem white and seem to pierce right through me, as though they can see every secret I’ve ever hidden deep into the recesses of my mind. But then that thought is gone, because hey, it’s just a dog.

Though, I can’t help but notice the uncanny similarity between the husky’s eyes and my own. It’s a little creepy. Plus, they look better on the furry one.

“Hey there, buddy,” I say, easing into a crouch. “What are you doing here so early?”

It does an adorable head tilt, perking its ears forward as though listening with deep thought to every word that I speak. It doesn’t make a sound, but I can’t help but think, again, there’s an uncanny intelligence in its

gaze.

The dog doesn’t seem to mind when I reach out a hand, and my fingers brush against the soft fur of its face. It leans into my touch, its eyes half–closed in pleasure, savoring the contact.

megawatt smile. I love animals. For obvious reasons, the pack doesn’t have dogs around. Or cats. Or rabbits. Well, actually, there are rabbits–but they aren’t the kind you cuddle with.

14:00

2/7

Husky

We eat them.

aren’t you?” I murmur,

scratching.

pulls back, and I swear there’s affront all over that

I

harder, and she lets out a soft whine of

agreement.

of an owner, but the street is empty save for

in the distance. “Are you lost, sweet

the distinct sense

at it, blowing it into my face. Between that and the fur I’d managed to loosen with happy scritches, I feel like a sneeze is trying to

even a wolfless shifter to be allergic

makes an odd, rhythmic string of chatter at

10:40 —

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Husky

swear she

freaking grip, Ava. You can’t possibly miss being in a pack so much that you’re starting to wolfy–ize a

my arm. “You’re too young to have balance issues, Ava.

Elkins is pretty hip to new technology. She says it’s

to cater

little pup?” Mrs. Elkins asks the husky, who woofs at her. “That’s what I thought. Come on in. Don’t get your

feeling that something is just off with this dog. Then again, I have never been away from a pack before, and I’ve heard that going solo does weird things to wolves. I’ll have to keep an eye out for that. There’s no point in freedom and independence if I’m going

14:40

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Husky