My neighbor stands in the doorway. “I think I’ve spotted your dog.”
I dash out, approach the darkening field, and shine a flashlight between the cornrows.
There, two pinpoints of light: a dark shape.
“Maybe,” I say, but think, wolf.
Dry stalks rattle in the breeze. I hold out a shaky hand. “Here, Buster!”
The pinpoints retreat.
I step into the crackling corn, whistling. The wind shifts. The pinpoints return.
It could be a wolf. It’s caught my scent and bounds toward me. Crouching, I freeze.
A whimper. Thick tail thumping. A familiar warm body curls around my legs.