Free Tango: The Tale of an Island Dog by Eileen Beha

sister?”
    “A fight to the finish,” Flint said proudly. “The winner finishes off the loser, and WE finish off the winner.”
    “Great fun,” Leftie agreed. “Don’t you get it?”
    Nigel felt a chill from the tips of his black ears to the white at the end of his tail. “I get it.”
    “Start at the bottom of the barrel.”
    “With who?” Nigel asked.
    “The dull, the small, the weak, the stupid, the ugly, the deformed,” Flint clarified.
    Leftie sneered. “Oh, and don’t forget the crippled.”
    Nigel winced.
    “Aw, Stump, Leftie didn’t mean it,” Flint said. “No, really, skip the crippled. Line up some of these outsiders—you know, the ones who are invading our village.”
    Leftie stifled a chuckle. “The ones who are invading our shores.”
    “Like Rat-Boy.” Flint snickered.
    Leftie must have seen something like doubt cross Nigel’s face. Leftie’s eyes bored into him. “Unless you can’t handle it.”
    Nigel looked off to the side. Sure, Nigel could handle it, but did he want to? Yeah, Nigel admitted, he’d hoped to encourage animals like Beau Fox and Rat-Boy to find new territory—you know, a couple of pranks, a little bullying, ridicule, that sort of thing—
that’s
what Nigel had in mind.
    “After all, it
was
your idea,” Flint noted. “And, I might add, a big step up for you, Stumpy-Boy.”
    Maybe Leftie was right. Maybe this was his big break. Do the job right, who knows where this might lead?
    “Axel wants the fights to start soon,” Flint said.
    Leftie swished his tail, impatiently waiting for an answer. “Well…?”
    Ultimately, Nigel’s ego got the best of him. “No problem.” He smirked.
    Heads up, tails upright, Leftie and Flint took off.
    Now that Nigel saw a better future for himself within the pack, his spirits lifted.
    Mole versus mole. Chipmunk versus chipmunk. Squirrel against squirrel.
    It was just a game, wasn’t it?

CHAPTER 22
One Step at a Time
    Beau Fox watched proudly as the little dog conquered the fourth, fifth, and sixth steps of the steep lighthouse staircase. Once Tango reached the first landing without a misstep, he tackled the second flight of stairs. Going up, Beau observed, took spring and strength. Coming down required bravery and balance.
    Beau found himself looking forward to these nightly excursions. Tango was the first animal he’d allowed himself to become close to in all the years since Tawny was killed by the red car.
    “Tonight’s the night,” Tango announced as they trotted toward the lighthouse, eight nights after entering for the first time. “I can feel it in my bones—I’m going all the way to the top!”
    Tango revealed his plan. “Tomorrow, we’ll sneak in before Big Bart unlocks the door. Doc Tuckerkeeps talking about the new bridge. Maybe Manhattan’s just on the other side.”
    “Hmm. McKenna once spoke of a long bridge she wanted to cross. But we must hurry,” Beau urged. “A storm is brewing.”
    Thunder rumbled. Filaments of lightning scratched the midnight sky. In the bay, frothy waves churned and slapped against the rocky shore. Gliding on the whistling wind, a squadron of seagulls cawed and cackled with displeasure.
    Fear displaced the determination in Tango’s eyes. “Let’s get out of here!”
    “Too late for that,” Beau barked. “Go inside! Quick!”
    The heavens cracked open. Rain came down in sheets. The two rain-soaked canines crawled into the lighthouse.
    Suddenly, a bolt of lightning illuminated the pitch-black interior and a terrifying creature. Beau froze, speechless, mesmerized by a grotesquely misshapen animal—bigger than Tango but smaller than Beau—with dazzling white fur. In the dark, the animal’s two beady eyes glowed rose. Tango cowered by Beau’s side.
    A second bolt of lightning flashed. A long, tapered hairless tail slashed like a knife as it swished across the floor.
    “Beau, we’ve got to get out of here!” Tango cried.
    The albino beast opened its jaws; its four front