KILLER GROWLED, CAUSING Zeeky to stir from her sleep. Poocher squealed as the ox-dog began to bark furiously. She rubbed her eyes. Zeeky scanned the darkness around them but saw no one. The air carried the smell of the last embers of the fire she’d built earlier in the night.
Killer continued to bark into the dark voids among the surrounding trees.
“Is that thing going to eat me?” a man said.
Zeeky recognized the voice.
“It’s okay,” she said, and Killer stopped barking.
“Come on, Hey You,” she shouted.
The old man emerged from the darkness as the moon slid from behind the clouds. He walked stiffly and sort of tilted to one side. His left arm hung limply, swaying as he moved. Bandages had been wrapped around his chest.
Yet, as awful as he looked, Zeeky was happy to see him. She jumped up and ran to him, giving him a hug, though not a hard one, as he looked like he might not be able to take it.
He placed his right hand on her back and said, “You don’t need to call me Hey You anymore.”
“So what should I call you?”
“Bant will do.”
“Okay.”
Bant grimaced as he lowered himself to the ground. She helped him sit then sat beside him.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said. “After the-”
“Shh,” he said. “Let’s not talk about what happened back there. Let’s talk about tomorrow. Where you heading to?”
“Home,” said Zeeky.
“You aren’t an orphan?”
“I hope not.”
“Didn’t think so,” Bant said. “Bet your dad was going to kill that pig ’cause it was a runt, so you ran away with it.”
“How’d you know?”
“I was young once. A long time ago.” Bant shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be young again one day.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” he said. “If you want me to, I’ll stick with you for awhile. I’m guessing you don’t know how to find your way back.”
“No,” Zeeky admitted. “I’m so lost.”
“So am I,” Bant said. “But home’s out there somewhere. Maybe, together, we’ll find it.”