Free Beasts and BFFs by Shannon Delany Page B

put our backs to whatever it was, leaving us at a distinct disadvantage. “No. Just back up slowly. Keep your eyes on the bushes.”
    “What if it’s dominance-driven?” Sarah asked.
    “What?” Amy and I raised the question in unison.
    “Like a lion? Something that gets angrier if you stare at it because it believes you’re trying to establish dominance?”
    I knew Amy was preparing to tell Sarah not to be so frikkin’ stupid, so I raised a hand. I wanted quiet. Maybe something else in the park’s untamed heart would catch the animal’s attention. The birds had stopped singing. Even the jay had gone mute.
    Fabulous.
    “A lion in Junction?” Amy blew out an exasperated breath.
    So much for us being quiet.
    “--or a wolf,” Sarah suggested.
    My stomach dropped. Lions in Junction were an impossibility. But wolves…
    Amy snorted.
    “There were wolves in Farthington.”
    The color drained from Amy’s face. “Those weren’t normal wolves.”
    “Keep backing toward the parking lot.”  My heel struck a rock embedded in the path and I stumbled before catching myself.
    Amy and Sarah stared at me, fear finally strangling the words in their throats. Eyes glued to the brambles, I dug out the rock with the toe of my sneaker, briefly bending to snatch it up.
    If something came for us I’d at least try and wing it.
    For every step we got closer to the safety of the open parking lot, the thing in the bushes matched us, stalking along a parallel path. I managed to get Sarah and Amy a little behind me. Amy stooped over, reaching for her shoe.
    “What are you--”
    “You have a rock,” she mentioned, “I just figured I’d--”
    “Whack it with your shoe?”  
    She yanked it free, holding the sneaker like she’d used it as a weapon before. Knowing Amy, she probably had.
    Together, we took another step backwards.
    “Should I--?” Sarah asked.
    “Your shoes are all about fashion, not function,” Amy sniped.
    Frustrated, words slipped out. “If you think your sneakers were designed for running and beast bashing--”
    “Point taken,” Amy muttered. Her hand came to rest on my left shoulder.
    Sarah’s hand gripped my right and we took another long, careful step back.
    The honk of a car horn made us jump.
    “Marvin!” Amy squealed in recognition, turning toward the lot just as the creature broke cover and darted across the path, brutally ripping its way into the brush on the other side and disappearing once more.
    Sarah and I gawked at each other, jaws loose. “That was huge,” I said.
    “ Gargantuan ,” she agreed.
    “What? What was it?” Amy asked, staring at the hole in the underbrush. “What did it look like?”
    “A collie,” Sarah said.
    I snorted, relief flooding through me as the noise of the thing ripping through the bushes grew softer—more distant. “Lassie was a collie. And that thing was no Lassie.” I laughed.
    I was grabbed from both sides and smooshed between Amy and Sarah in a huge hug. My heart fell out of my throat and resumed a nearly normal rhythm. Until Amy and Sarah realized they were actually touching and both slipped away as fast as… Well, as fast as something really fast.
    The creature was gone—no branch waved or berry cane crackled in its wake. “Let’s go,” I suggested, grabbing their wrists.
    “Should we tell somebody?” Sarah asked. Our strides lengthened and I felt a burn in my legs as we ran the last hundred and fifty yards to the parking lot.
    Marvin’s sleek silver convertible was illegally parked—for his convenience—and it appeared he was having a quick chat with local law enforcement about it. A police officer stood by his window, his hands quick and expressive.
    “We could tell that police officer what we saw,” Sarah suggested.  
    Marvin flashed something at the cop—his license? He pointed to one section of it.
    “Oh, God,” Amy said. “He’s doing it again. Pointing out his address like it means something.” From the tone of her voice I