Moonshadow (Moonshadow #1)(15)

The Ewok ambled closer. It sniffed at her, then nosed her fingers, the gentle touch so fleeting it was over before she knew it.

Aw, hell.

Her squat turned into a kneeling position. Carefully she patted the creature. When it drew closer and put a paw on her knee, she gently deepened the inspection.

Opposite the round head, a curly tail was embedded in the tangled filth, and yes, four legs were buried in that mess. The shape of the body felt like a dog’s. When she sank her fingers into the hair, she could feel the small curve of protruding ribs.

Fingering the matted hair around that ridiculous little face, she found two delicate flaps of ears. Maybe it wore a collar with a name and address, but at the thought of finding its owner, anger shook through her.

The dog was too small to survive long on its own in this kind of deserted countryside. The protruding ribs and the dreadlocks in its hair spoke of long-term neglect, even abuse.

As she pulled the dreadlocks apart to look for a collar, she found a knot of silvery rope, tied too tightly around the dog’s neck and broken at one trailing end. When she touched the rope, magic seared her fingers.

Muttering a curse, she recoiled. There was real, magic-sensitive silver wound into the rope, and it was bound with some kind of broken incantation that still held enough cruel Power to raise reddened welts on the ends of her fingers.

If it did that to her skin, what was it doing to the dog’s neck?

Suddenly this what the fuck shot to the top of her long list. Her anger turned into a deep, fierce rage.

“Okay, little guy.” She kept her rage out of her quiet voice. “You haven’t bitten me yet. Hold still. I’m going to get this off you.”

The dog sat on the pavement, blinking up at her, almost as if it knew what she was saying.

Digging into her bag, she pulled out her pair of nail clippers and set to work. Although she knew she had to be hurting it, the dog never moved, nor did it appear to flinch.

Despite the broken incantation, the knot in the rope seemed to twist and slide away from her efforts like a live creature while cold pain seared her fingers. She spat out a null spell to negate the magic.

For a brief moment the Power in the broken silver rope dissipated. When she felt it begin to coalesce again, she worked faster, digging the pointed end of the nail file into the knot until she finally yanked it loose.

When she pulled the rope away, the dog rounded on her with a snarl. It moved so fast she didn’t have time to pull back. Sharp-looking white fangs flashed as it snatched the length of silver rope from her hands and flung it over its shoulder.

She had gotten too used to the dog’s docile cooperation. Sitting back on her heels, she stared, but the brief display of savagery was already over. The Ewok face turned up to her, its large, filmy eyes blinking mildly.

A few feet away, the length of silvery rope dissolved with an acidic hiss until all that was left on the pavement was a darkened smear that stank like rotten eggs and left a faint shadow of psychic malice. What would the rope have done if she’d still held it? Would it have burned through her fingers?

Sophie looked around at the peaceful-seeming countryside, then back down at the dog.

Sighing, it put its chin on her knee.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered. “You did not just do that, did you?”

But it had, indeed, just done that.

She inspected her fingers. The reddened welts had turned into raised blisters in places. She wanted to check the dog’s neck to see if it was blistered too, but there was too much matted hair in the way. Also, it was wretchedly filthy.

She needed to cut the dreadlocks off and give the dog a bath with a mild soap, then check for blisters.

But first things first.

Pulling out her water bottle, she poured water into the palm of one cupped hand and offered it. There was no telling how long ago it’d had a chance to drink, let alone eat.

Sniffing at her hand, it opened an oddly hinged mouth, wide as a frog’s, and sucked at the water in her palm. Sucked, not lapped, making small, audible sounds as it swallowed. Tilting her head, she watched it drink.

When it finished the water, she poured more into her palm until it stopped drinking. Only then did she take a drink herself. Afterward, she capped the mostly empty bottle and stuck it back inside her bag.

“All right, kiddo,” she said to the dog. “I saw those toofers of yours. I know you could do real damage if you tried. Don’t you bite me.”

With that admonition, she picked it up gently. As she did, it climbed up her torso and stuck its face in her neck with a deep sigh.

Automatically her arms closed around the small body. She knelt there frozen, holding a strange, stinky dog in her arms. It probably had heartworm and fleas.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

This wasn’t going to happen. She had an agenda for the foreseeable future, and it didn’t include adopting a pet, let alone adopting a special-needs pet.

She was going to carry it to the village and hand it over to somebody else. Surely, there had to be a country vet somewhere that could give it medical care.

But there was the abuse, the neglect. The cruel magic rope that had dissolved into nothing. Her jaw clenched on another surge of rage. She didn’t know who would do such a thing to an animal, but whoever they were, they had to either live in the area or to have passed through recently.

Sophie, she said to herself, you’re not here five minutes, and you’ve already started a shit list. Some people don’t know how to take a vacation.