The Sound of a Gun

Chapter Three

The sound of paddling feet returned.

Toby was back.

I heard something soft hit the grass and felt his tongue brush against the left side of my face. Then I jumped as a rough wet surface scratched my hand. I realised that Toby was pushing it forward, trying to get me to hold it. It was a stick.

'Toby,' I whispered and I heard him look up obediently. 'You want me to throw you a stick?' I sensed his negativity. 'Well, what then?' He leaned forward and stroked my cheek with his snout.

And then it dawned on me. Protection.

Good old boy, loyal till the end.