The Shell of Casper

- 14 - Way Down

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Dust and grit rolled under the car as Rosie parked next to where she had left curling slashes of skid marks in the gravel. She toed the scrapes, scuffing the etches into an equilibrium with the rest of the road. Opening the passenger door, Rosie grabbed Watson's leash and stepped aside to left him bound out of the car.

The clouds had not cleared up, which was unsurprising. Rosie frowned, not enjoying the presence in her book bag. The headset was a wild animal sleeping on her back, and she wanted to throw it into the woods and never see it again. But it was a necessity and a weapon in itself.

Rosie squatted to her knees and tugged Watson to her. She took out the blinders and held it out. The dog bumped them with his wet nose, snuffling it for a couple seconds. Casper had gotten Watson to track many things years ago from missing cats and intruding pests like hen-hunting foxes and mess-making raccoons. Therefore, Watson was a little rusty, but he knew what he was doing.

In seconds, the bloodhound had his copper snout to the ground and steered Rosie to the forest's edge. The runaway was on foot then, not in a car. She had been worried that maybe they bad been tossed in the back of a car and chucked the headset out a window, along with Rosie's chance at snatching a witness. But her prayers had been answered.

"Good boy," Rosie murmured gently, not wanting to provide any distraction. The pair descended into the soggy ditch, leaving Rosie to hastily raise her hand up to whack the key fob until the car chirped and locked. Her sneakers were not well equipped for the marshy woodland floor, but they did their part to the minimum.

Watson was completely gone into his own world. His tail swung back in forth, all his energy of being pent up now assumed to be driving his senses a bit crazy. He was walking fast, determined, focused. His ears were pricked forward, cupping the sides of his face like curtains, and his jowls—

Rosie chuckled and shook her head. She loved his droopy face and pink tongue.

Watson navigated well, guiding her deeper into the overhang and thick coverage of multicoloured leaves. They veered up and down, even pausing once when the hound analyzed a tree. Nudging the roughened bark of the trunk, he pawed at the base before marching forward even faster. Rosie stopped before he could drag her away. The runaway must have taken a breather or leaned against the tree for a moment. Possibly because they were hopelessly far back into the endless woods.

Rosie shrugged and gave the trunk a pat. Before she went to return back to where Watson paced at the end of the leash, her hand came back wet. Rosie quailed and spread out her fingers. A streak of blood made a crimson streak across her palm. Rosie hurtled behind the hound, mind blank and hollering all the same.

As the sun soon dripped near the horizon, Rosie attempted to flick away the fear of being lost from where it sat on her shoulders, hissing terrible possibilities into her head.

Watson hadn't eased a bit, his paws thumping with each heavy step he took. His face was soaked from nosing bushes and brush that were dewy from the rain. Rosie's father would surely scold her when she got home, even though she was an adult and getting ready to move out. As for Stefanie, she probably didn't mind having a break from Watson's howls. And Markus... he most likely forgot they even had a dog. Rosie's lip tugged to the side sadly.

Watson stopped.

Rosie bumped into his hocks where he had gone stiff.

"Watson?" She whispered, shoving a strand of hair that had escaped her long-gone ponytail of mad curls. Rosie came to his side and rubbed the inky fur on his back. A deep rumble cut from the bloodhound's chest. Watson raised his head and looked down.

Rosie followed his gaze.

A steep decline was gashed into the earth, congested with eroded rocks and plants growing from the sides. It wasn't a hole, just a horribly scarped hill. Rosie inched to the edge, crouching to look over the side.

At the bottom in a heap, there was a girl.