"We all have good and bad inside of us. It's what side we chose to follow that defines who we really are." -J.K. Rowling.
A girl, two dogs, and one gallant sparrow-an epic battle against good and evil.
Everything is at stake when Sheldon's spirit...
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"I'll be back."—The Terminator
(Bastion's POV)
The day before—
Sparky cringed as old Dawson belted out an off pitch rendition of Achy Breaky Heart, his voice overpowering the radio as they cruised down the tree-lined country road. The old man's belly pressed tightly against the steering wheel, his short arms straining to reach it. To the right, the lake shone brightly, waves rippling softly to the shore.
Dawson sighed, turning to look at it. "The lake is calling my name," he said longingly. "One of these days I'll be able to spend a whole day out there. Just me, a cooler of beer, and my lucky pole."
Dawson's veterinary clinic was set in the small village of Detour, a ferry town situated by the lake, up the road a few miles. The pick-up truck puttered past a few old houses, an antique shop, and an ice cream parlor. Finally, it turned sharply onto a gravel road, causing a series of sharp pings as small rocks hit the truck's metal sides.
"Here we are little fella," Dawson said, beaming down at Sparky who sat inside an open shoe box on the passenger seat.
The old man squeezed himself out from behind the steering wheel. He leaned over to pick up the box with a grunt, causing Sparky to dig his nails into the cardboard to steady himself.
"We'll fix that wing up good as new," Dawson said, wheezing as he fumbling through a large ring of keys. "Now which one is it? I always forget."
Sparky stomped his foot impatiently, his dark eyes gleaming from inside the box. Good lord, old man! Hurry up and get this over with. People's lives are on the line as we speak!
The little bird's feathers ruffled as a large gray cat sashayed from out of nowhere and weaved itself around Dawson's legs, purring.
"Well, hello there, Clementine!" Dawson cooed down at the cat, momentarily forgetting the keys in his hands. "Are you looking for your dinner?"
The cat meowed sweetly, but her yellow eyes fastened on Sparky, who's head peeked out from the box. I will take whatever I can from you, old fool, she projected, her tail curling like a snake around his leg.
"You're a sweet little girl, Cleme," Dawson crooned, reached down to pet her head.
Clementine rubbed against his hand, arching her back dramatically, a strong purr rolling from her lips. Dawson straightened, then smiled as he found the key.
Well, aren't you a fine pet, Sparky projected dryly down at the manipulative feline. Her eyes shone like pennies as she glared up at him. All but his head was hidden inside the shoe box. She licked her lips, her whiskers twitching.
You look like a tasty snack, she hissed softly and turned to lead the way inside the veterinary clinic, her tail twisting up and down in a hypnotizing fashion.
