Free Say No More by Gemini Sasson

overpowering. So I let my eyes do the work, while I was still able to see. Barely.
    It was nearly dark now. There wasn’t much time left. When I looked again toward the edge of the woods, the man was gone.
    In a depression in the field glimmered the surface of a pond where the cows would come to drink. They had left deep hoof prints in the mud around it. My eyes followed the pond’s edge around to the other side.
    My heart vaulted. I knew this place. Cam had brought me here once with Bit. We had stayed for hours while he cast his line into the water and sat with his pole propped between his knees, gazing at the sky. He said he was fishing, but he only caught two fish and those were very small, so he threw them back. A ripple at the surface caught my eye and I looked past it, up the slope —
    And there, I saw him.
    Hunter was sitting, hugging his knees, halfway up a hill on the far side. His head was bent, resting on his forearms. My boy!
    I barked, a small bark of excitement, happy to have found Hunter, to be in a place I had been before.
    Except, I didn’t know the way back from here. Cam had brought me here in his truck on the way home from Ray’s and I had fallen asleep on the seat between him and my mother.
    But like I said before, what mattered was that I’d found Hunter.
    I barked again, louder, more clearly. Hunter raised his head, then stood. I wasn’t sure he could see me, so I ran.
    He began to run, too. Toward the pond.
    As fast as my feet could fly without twisting around each other, I raced to him. My toes, as quick as lightning, clipped the ground. I plowed through the tall grass, holding my head tall, bounding high every few strides to try to catch a glimpse of him. But it was hard to see him in the failing light. His head bobbed above the reeds rimming the pond’s edge. The water was deep there. I had discovered it that time with Cam when I thought I’d go wading to snap at tadpoles. Instead, I’d found myself in water over my head. My feet had hit the murky bottom then and I’d burst upward, desperate for air. When I surfaced, I paddled my way back to Cam, who laughed at me. But as with so many things, dogs were born with the memory of how to swim. I was not so sure it was true for humans. If Hunter fell in —
    So I barked my warning as I curved around the pond. Until finally Hunter saw me and turned. Barely in time.
    I gathered myself in mid-stride, sprang from my haunches, and sailed at him. My feet hit his chest squarely, knocking him back, away from the water. He landed in the tall, wet grass with a soft oomph , me on top of him. I kept him pinned there to make sure he didn’t move just yet. Then I licked his face all over, a wet and thorough washing, rapidly lapping him from chin to forehead.
    He flung his arms around me. “Halo!” he cried, his small voice breaking into sobs of relief. It was the most joyous sound I had ever heard.
    Exhaustion flooded through me. I collapsed beside him. We lay like that awhile, his arms hugging my chest, my snout tucked in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
    “I saw him,” Hunter whispered in my ear. “I saw Daddy.”
    I did, too.
    Salty tears slid down his cheeks. I licked his face clean and pressed myself closer to his shivering body.
    —o00o—
    I don’t remember hearing Lise and Grace tromp down the hill and come to us. I only knew that they did. I was aware of it. Yet I never looked up, never left Hunter. They were just there all of a sudden, standing over us, squealing with relief as tubes of light from Grace’s flashlight bounced around us.
    Lise scooped Hunter up and crushed him to her chest. I sat at her feet, waiting for some acknowledgment of what I had done. For the longest time, she didn’t look down at me. When she finally did, it was in response to a comment Grace made.
    “Do you think he followed the dog out the door?” Grace cocked her head sideways, staring at me with suspicion through her narrow glasses. She had two little