Step. And pause. Step. And pause. Lower head to ground and paw at the dirt.
The scent should not have been so strong. Why was the draw so insistent? Why did it call again and again, time after time, urging him back to stare through lit windows and watch the man behind the glass? Why did this man make his teeth itch and his spine twitch?
Hunger of a kind he did not want—could not want—lurched inside his guts. It was the kind of frustrating need that made him want to lift his head to the sky and let loose a wretched wail. And as he did just that, and the echo of the howl bounced over the hills and the rock, another’s reached out and harmonized along with him.
* * * *
It wasn’t that Randy spent the next two days watching for Lyle to show up; it was more that he spent the time hoping Lyle
