Zandra Curtis unceremoniously dumped another large scoop into the poop bucket then leaned on the shovel to catch a rest. You knew your dogs were large when you got buff shoulders just from cleaning up after them.

“That’s what I get for letting this sit for two months,” she said to the two mighty beasts lying nearby in the yard. The last two months of winter had been white ones. Finally enough snow had melted off to let her get outside and clean up the dogs’ winter output. She pulled her jacket off and felt the cool air on her sweaty arms.

Elfie looked up at Zandra, then back into the trees near her house. She was the mama dog, and always kept an eye on things. When barking needed doing, she either did it herself or chuffed in a tone that sent Fiyero with his much deeper bark.

Fiyero picked his head up from where he was sleeping and lifted his heavy lids. When he noticed Zandra looking at him, he pushed himself up laboriously to a sitting position and stretched his neck.

They were Dogues de Bordeaux, or French Mastiffs. Elfie was average height and weight but Fiyero had somehow gotten Hulk genes mixed in. At 150 pounds and 30 inches at the shoulder, he was the biggest French Mastiff Zandra knew of. Their golden red coats glimmered in the spring sun, and Fiyero’s muscles rippled wherever they were visible through his loose skin.

“Takes a lot of energy to be so stinking majestic, doesn’t it?”

It seemed like all he did was sleep these days. Three years earlier Elfie gave birth to him, and while he’d always been a big baby, it sure seemed like he was more tired than he used to be.

Zandra knelt next to him and had to look up into his eyes due to his incredible height. “So stinkin’ handsome!” she told him as she ran her hand along his sleek coat. He brought his mailbox-sized head down to nuzzle her and knocked her off balance. Continuing the game, he stood and brought his head down to her belly as Zandra squealed at the tickles. Using the giant floppy ears as handles, she gave him a loving shake back and forth.

Elfie was there instantly, supervising the rough play and apparently unhappy with it because she let out a small chuff and Fiyero backed off. His whole life Elfie had looked out for him, corrected him, and basically bossed him around. Fiyero took it in stride; it had always been his natural order of things.

“He’s okay, Elfie.” Zandra gave her ears a good scritch.

Fiyero thumped back to the ground, practically shaking it under Zandra’s feet. Like a toddler obsessed with pulling off a diaper, he went automatically with his tongue to the lesion on his ankle.

“Stop that, Fiyero,” said Zandra, grabbing his big tongue gently. “Those are only going to get worse if you keep it up.” The lick wounds on three of Fiyero’s joints were much worse than each of the original lesions that she assumed attracted the licking to begin with. The vet said the lesions on his elbows were caused by repetitively plunking down too hard. He had all the beds and carpets a dog could want, yet he continued to slam himself down on the ground. The cultured concrete porch outside and the epoxy of the garage were hard on his big joints.

Zandra had tried everything possible to prevent him from licking the wounds, but might as well have tried to get him to stop slobbering. Her husband, Emmett, came up with an idea when Zandra had exhausted every possibility. The idea had never even crossed her mind, but he had hired a hoity-toity doggie life coach to come and work with the dogs. The name of the company was Canis Amare, and if Zandra’s prediction was right, the trainer—no, the coach who showed up would be straight out of Legally Blonde, purse dog and all. But it was another step, and though skeptical, Zandra had finally been able to relax about it for a couple of days.

Coach Elle Woods and her Chihuahua, or whoever they sent, would be there in a few minutes and Zandra still had a lawn full of landmines that weren’t going to scoop themselves. As usual, Emmett had a full day at work and couldn’t help her. Zandra had just finished her music composition degree and finally had time to take care of the house and dogs full time while Emmett focused on bringing in truckloads of bacon. Figuratively, not literally, although bacon did sound delicious right about now. Emmett had been the one to arrange the coach, and he’d offered on many occasions to hire a company to come “do doody duty,” but Zandra didn’t mind. Due to some owner/pet connection she didn’t fully understand, the dogs’ way of helping her work was to laze in her vicinity. It was good for them. She didn’t understand exactly how, but she believed that.

After another fifteen minutes of heavy lifting, the wheelbarrow was mostly full and the lawn was safe to walk across. Zandra called the dogs with a whistle and they followed her out into the woods to dump the trophies where they could continue the circle of life.

Fiyero apparently wasn’t ready to say goodbye because he began vigorously sniffing the contents of the pile. “It’s okay, Fiyero, they’ll be right here so you can come visit any time you want.” Zandra laughed when he looked up with furrowed brows. She dug into his ears with her fingers. “Don’t worry, separation trauma is a thing a lot of toddlers go through during potty training.”

As he went back to sniffing, she said, “I wish you’d use that nose of yours to find your Jolly Ball.” It had been weeks since she’d seen his favorite toy. The dogs buried things from time to time, but the huge toy ball was much bigger than the bones and rawhide treasures they usually hid for later.

Zandra pushed the wheelbarrow back and parked it behind the workshop. With the shovel over her shoulder she started across the lawn. Both dogs walked directly in her path, stopping every two seconds to look over their shoulder to make sure they were still going the right direction. Zandra had to either push through the blockade or skirt around it to make any progress toward the garage. The persistent pups just caught up with her, passed her, then held up traffic again, concerned they might be on the wrong path.

“You two crack me up,” she chuckled. “If you don’t know where we’re going, try following instead of leading.”

She rinsed the shovel, then went in through the side door of the garage and leaned it with the rakes and brooms. On the Hers side of the garage the Avalanche was parked. On the His side, tools and boxes and some stone slabs filled the space. It wasn’t jam packed, but packed enough to prevent Emmett from parking inside. The workshop was the same way—random counter-building supplies covering half of the space.

Over the year that they’d lived in the house, she’d asked him a couple times to consolidate it all into the workshop so his big manly truck could cozy up to her cute little SUV. Okay, so there was nothing cute or little about her Avalanche, but both dogs could fit in the pickup bed in the back of it.

True to his clever tongue, Emmett said something like, “When a man says he’ll do something, he’ll do it. You don’t have to nag him about it every six months.” The slightly crooked smile that dimpled his chiseled cheek had melted her and she couldn’t resist cuddling up and kissing him in to submission.

Well, she thought he’d submitted, but six months later he was still parking outside. It was such a little thing, but for some reason it felt like he hadn’t come home in the year they lived in the new house.

Every once in a while she wondered if it was more than that. As if he’d caught some sort of three-year itch around the time they moved in. Elfie reached up and nuzzled Zandra’s elbow. She must have picked up on the worry.

“You’re right, sister. I’ve got me a good man. Handsome, smart, hard-working. We’ll figure things out. Life is amazing, right?”

As if on cue, her phone sang out “Smile” by Uncle Kracker—a fellow Michigander. A text from her sexy Emmett: Gonna be here in mtgs in the office for a while. Good luck with dog whisperer!

She texted back: Thx, Studly. Rock your meetings in the office!!!

In the office? Why did that sound weird? Maybe she was just being oversensitive to the minor problems they’d been going through for the last year or so.

“That’s right. Minor. No biggie. We got this.”

The sound of tires on gravel came from the driveway, so Zandra hit the garage button, prepared to meet the doggie life coach. Emmett hadn’t wanted to tell her what they charged, but she pushed him and still wondered if he was joking. Two hundred dollars a session was a lot to charge for a human shrink, much less an animal one.

A pickup pulled up behind the His side of the garage, and parked in Emmett’s spot. Glare from the sun prevented Zandra from getting a look at the driver, but she saw the very professional logo on the car door and the words Canis Amare. The business was obviously going for something meaning the love of dogs, but had ended up with “loving dog” if Zandra’s Latin was good for anything.

Elfie came to stand in front of Zandra and woofed quietly at the newcomer. That was Fiyero’s cue to step in front of both of them and show off his amazing deep-chest bark. The sound of it triggered vibrations in Zandra’s chest like a full symphony.

“Keep it down, Fiyero. She’s a friend. She’s here to help.”

A copper-haired man stepped out of the truck holding only a leash. He was wearing fashionable jeans and a t-shirt that was either super boutique or thrift store. Zandra couldn’t tell, but this guy pulled it off no problem. Why she had expected high heels, a silly pink hat, and a purse Chihuahua, Zandra couldn’t remember. The guy was dang fit and dang good-looking—clean shaven and with a kindness in his smile that any woman would find attractive. A place that charged that kind of fee had to have a certain image, especially in this part of Michigan, and he had no trouble pulling it off.

“Alexandra?”

“Yeah, hi. Zandra.”

“I’m Cason O’Connor,” he said, moving toward her. He was mid 20s, about her age, which seemed young for a highly-touted dog shrink and as she started to reach her hand out, she noticed he was introducing himself to the dogs, not to her.

He graciously acted like he hadn’t noticed her responding to his non-existent offer to shake hands. With one hand held out for each dog to inspect, he went on. “Elfie? Fiyero? How we doing today? Canis Amare sent me to help you two be healthier and happier.”

When he spoke to the dogs, it wasn’t gushy baby talk. It sounded more like he was addressing a board of directors. And instead of seeming out of place, his casual style was likable. He seemed like a young president of a cool tech company, and even had the unfussy good looks to go with it.

Frankly, he made Zandra uneasy.

Elfie sat formally, respectfully even though Cason hadn’t even asked her to. It was the opposite motion of a show of respect in a board room, but carried the same sentiment. Fiyero watched her do it, then copied the moment, slowly lowering his thick hind end to the ground. Zandra thought she could hear his bones creaking as his massive joints bent.

“Thanks,” said Cason, bending at the knee to look them in the eyes. He scratched their ears deeply and both dogs moaned in pleasure. Elfie put one huge paw on Cason’s knee, a gesture Zandra had decided was like a hug for her. “Give me a minute with your bald mama and I’ll be back.”

Cason stood and held his hand out to Zandra. “I’ll take that hand shake now.”

“Ack!” she said, feeling the embarrassment return. “I was hoping you didn’t see that.” Wait, did he call her a ‘bald mama’?

“Sorry,” he said, “it’s a delicate time when you first meet a new family. Notice how they’re patiently waiting?”

“Usually they’d be giving you a slobbery welcome and doing their best to knock you over.” Fiyero fidgeted, looking between Cason and Elfie, but miraculously kept his hind end on the ground without even being told to. “You really are a dog whisperer or something.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Cason with an easy smile. He went back to Fiyero and knelt in front of him. Fiyero had had all the self-restraint he could handle, and he licked Cason from jaw to temple.

Zandra resisted the temptation to apologize and pull Fiyero away, but she got the feeling the doggie coach could take care of himself. She half-expected him to growl and bite Fiyero’s ear like she’d seen the TV dog whisperer do, but he just laughed and used Fiyero’s own jowls to wiped the slobber off.

“No taking the dog down and showing him who’s boss?” asked Zandra.

“Nah. It’s not my style. I work better as a colleague than a boss.”

“What about pack behavior and alpha dog and all that? I mean, I admit I’ve only seen like two episodes of the Dog Whisperer, so I’m no expert.”

“Cesar Milan is a heck of a guy, and even nicer in person than on the show.” Cason rubbed Fiyero’s ears deeply as he looked over his legs, paying special attention to the lick wounds on his joints. “He’s one of my heroes, does more for pet charities than anyone I’ve met, but the show is reality TV.”

Elfie whined in jealousy or concern, so Zandra moved over to her and gave her attention. “Is it scripted or made up or something?”

“No,” said Cason. “They take reality and shape it into entertainment. Every episode usually has a villain, either the owner or another animal, and the problem behavior usually gets tied up with a pretty bow and a ribbon and all that within an hour. Pets aren’t that simple.”

“Wait,” said Zandra, with fake shock, “you mean you can’t do your magic and get my boy healed in one session? I was under the impression that Canis Amare meant ‘doggie magic guaranteed.’ I’m actually a little surprised he still has those lick wounds. You’ve been here like five minutes already.”

“I think you need a doggie shaman, not a dog coach,” said Cason with a smile as he moved to the rest of Fiyero’s body. “As far as the name, I actually talked the owner out of Carpe Canis.”

“Seize the dog?” said Zandra. “I can see why.”

“So,” said Cason, rubbing Fiyero’s hips diagnostically. “Tell me about yourself.”

Zandra kept quiet, letting him do his whispering ritual or whatever it was.

After a few seconds, Cason looked up at her expectantly.

“Wait, me? Or you want me to tell you about the pups?”

“You,” said Cason.

He wasn’t flirting was he? She hadn’t been this nervous around a guy since Emmett had scheduled the appointment, but Zandra had given details about the problem to the secretary at Canis Amare. Besides, the glittering rock on her ring finger was hard to miss, but did guys notice things like that?

“I’m married,” she said, not minding that it sounded like she was putting up a wall. Cason didn’t flinch, so he probably already knew that. Not flirting.

“Emmett, right? Your husband?”

“Yeah, four years now.”

“What do you do to keep busy? Got kids, work, hobbies?”

“Don’t you want to hear about the dogs?” She wasn’t uncomfortable answering his questions, just careful about casual relationships with men. Especially attractive ones. That had been the downfall of her parents’ marriage and she vowed she would never let that happen to her.

“I’ll get that from them in a minute. Most of dog coaching is owner coaching, but a lot of people don’t like to hear that. They want me to fix the dog, not teach them how to have a better relationship with them. I have a friend who’s a child psychologist and it sounds like his sessions are exactly the same.”

“Makes sense. No kids for me and Emmett yet. Within the next year or two I think. I just graduated from Wayne State in music composition.”

“Go Warriors.”

“Go Warriors,” said Zandra. “Actually, I’ve never been to a single Wayne State athletic event.”

“You’re still a Warrior, though. We all represent our alma maters, right?” He continued to give Fiyero a thorough physical exam.

“Musical Warrior? Sure, I guess.”

“You work?”

“Planning to start a business soon. And I tinker with writing some theater.”

“That’s awesome,” said Cason. “I’m as tone deaf as a Mastiff. And I’m lucky enough to get to tinker with amazing creatures like these two all day. I’m the cool uncle who comes in and teaches the kid the importance of cleaning his room or eating vegetables.”

“Yeah, but you can’t spoil them.”

“You’re right, Zandra. You’re way more astute than most of my clients. I mean, clients’ owners. Spoiling the dogs causes unhappiness. I only get called when there are serious problems.” His face twisted slightly as if concerned as he went face to face with Fiyero. “I hope I can help you figure this out, my friend.”

Just as he was finishing his sentence, Fiyero’s tongue darted out and went into Cason’s mouth. Fiyero was the most ponderous dog on the planet—with exception of that tongue.

“Gotcha,” said Zandra, only halfway trying to suppress her laugh. “He’s like a ninja with that tongue. I can’t tell you how many times he’s succeeded in giving me a French kiss.”

Cason spit ineffectively on the ground. “I’m no doggie virgin lips.”

As soon as he stood up and gave Fiyero an inch, Elfie rushed over and checked out her son from nose to tail.

Cason patted her back and said, “You worry about him, don’t you? Some mothers drive their young away, but you are still all mommy, aren’t you.” He gave her a second to content herself with Fiyero’s condition. She turned to him and licked his hand when she was done. “Can I see how you’re doing?” he asked, bending to look her in the face, then moving down her sleek body, paying particular attention to elbows, ankles, and hips. It didn’t take as long as the inspection of Fiyero had.

“Where do these guys hang out most of the day?” asked Cason, standing to face Zandra again. He was built a little like the Mastiffs. Not as bulky, but with understated muscles that could move or work when needed. “What’s the natural habitat of the domesticated Bordeauxdog?”

Impressive. He knew one of the lesser-known names for the breed.

The dogs split their time between the backyard, the garage, and the dog room, but Zandra wasn’t sure she wanted to invite a hot young guy like Cason in. If only he’d been old, ugly, or female.

“Backyard and garage, mostly,” she said. “And the woods around the place.”

Cason spread his arms to include both dogs and told them, “Mind showing me the place?”

Both dogs rose in comprehension and moved through the garage toward the back door. Fiyero’s tail beat a loud bass rhythm against the Avalanche as he walked by. As soon as the dogs made it out the back door they turned to see if they were going the right way and completely blocked the exit.

“Quite the impasse,” said Cason, looking back and forth between the dogs. Zandra raised her arm to shoo them out of the way, but he said, “They’re fine. I want to check out their natural behavior.”

“Gosh, habit,” said Zandra. “I guess if anyone can take care of himself with these gentle giants, it’s you.”

After just a few seconds, Elfie chuffed and Fiyero started to fidget back and forth on his front legs. But they still filled the doorway.

Cason continued to monitor them. Fiyero whined and Elfie nipped at him, which made him whine louder, not in pain, but in frustration like a three-year old in timeout. On an unseen cue, Fiyero took off running with Elfie nipping playfully at his heels. It was a routine they went through nearly every time Zandra came outside with them, and didn’t change this time as she chased him in circles around the lawn.

“Talk about a helicopter mom,” said Cason.

“When he was really young, she picked on him a bit, but once it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere, she made him her whole life.”

“I bet she picked on the rest of the litter, too. One by one?”

“Yeah. And when we sold the picked-on one, she’d start on a different one.”

“It’s nature,” said Cason. “To prevent inbreeding, the mom drives the babies away.”

For a few more minutes they watched as the dogs finished their circles then came back to the humans for some attention. Cason petted both of them for a minute and as soon as he was done they moseyed a few feet away and collapsed onto the ground, Fiyero in the shade and Elfie in the sun.

“Thanks for letting me observe,” said Cason. “That’s always helpful before hearing what the owner’s observations are. So, what’s going on with them?”

“Poor Fiyero has those wounds that we just can’t get healed.”

“You’ve taken him to the vet?”

“Yeah, he had two wounds, one was a cut and one was a lick wound. They stitched one and wrapped the wounds to give them a chance to heal, but no bandage could last an hour unsupervised. He can’t stand them. Next they tried the dreaded cone. Fiyero has always been, to put it kindly, a klutz, but with the cone on he was an uncoordinated toddler. Broke literally everything in our house that wasn’t heavier than him.”

Cason was nodding along, listening intently. “But Fiyero’s mouth wasn’t the only problem mouth, was it?”

Zandra took a step away, joining Fiyero in the shade. “Exactly. Elfie helped get the bandages off and now I catch her licking his wounds almost every day.”

Cason rubbed his jaw for a second, but kept his eyes intent on Zandra. He was giving it all the concentration he could muster, like he was trying to figure out how to stop a giant asteroid from colliding with the Earth. It knocked Zandra off guard and he spoke into her pause.

“Not to state the obvious, but in nature, licking a wound can clean a lot of the garbage out of it to let it heal naturally. Once it changes from survival behavior to an obsessive behavior, it can be almost impossible to stop it. What else have you tried?”

“Distracting toys just seemed to make them enjoy licking more. For a solid week I set a timer and came out to interrupt them every five minutes. At night, or if I had to leave the house I separated them and put his cone on. The dogs were miserable being apart, but we had to try it. After seven days we got one blessed ankle healed completely and the other elbow was almost there. I separated them again at night, but when I came out in the morning, Elfie had busted through the barrier. Both wounds were open and as bad as ever.”

Zandra had slunk to the ground next to Fiyero when she’d discovered the backtracking, and bawled her eyes out. She had no idea how long she had sat there on the floor with him, petting him and crying tears that she’d wished could be healing tears. Through the tears she saw something even more heart-wrenching: a third wound had appeared on one of the joints of a back leg.

Just thinking about that day put her on the verge of losing it again.

Zandra blew out a slow breath and dabbed the corner of her eyes. Cason didn’t need to know about every tear. “Elfie gave me this guilty look and got up and with her head lowered, she dragged herself back to her side of the garage.” Zandra had called her back and loved on both of them for at least an hour.

Cason had been staring at her unflinchingly for the whole account. “Is there anything you haven’t tried?”

“I tried praying.” Zandra swallowed. “When that didn’t work it was as disappointing as the healed wounds busting open again.” Crying and all.

“It’s hard to tell if it’s rejection or redirection when prayers don’t work.”

For Zandra it definitely felt like rejection. She never asked for much—a happy marriage, healthy dogs, and a bestselling Broadway show to spring spontaneously from her fountain pen. Two out of three would make her the happiest person ever. At this point, one out of three would be a good start.

“Sorry,” said Cason. “I’m a dog coach, not clergy.”

“It’s alright,” said Zandra. “It’s hard to imagine now, but maybe someday I’ll see His wisdom in all this.” She seriously doubted it.

“Any other thoughts on Fiyero and Elfie?”

“It’s more than just the wounds now. He’s not as energetic as he used to be and I think he’s losing weight.”

“I was afraid of that,” said Cason.

“Just, help him. Please. We called for backup and you guys are the best around. If I could spend every minute with them, I know he’d get better. I freaking love their guts, but I just can’t do that. If they were human children, yeah, I’d do anything.” Her next words would probably offend him since dog types often thought of pets on par with humans, but that didn’t make sense to Zandra. “Sorry, but they’re dogs. I can do a lot—have done a lot. But they’re dogs, not people.” She looked down at Elfie who was sunning herself spread eagle in the sun.

“I’m glad you understand that,” said Cason.

“Wh-huh?”

“Canis familiaris is not homo sapiens and neither is orcinus orca.”

“Killer whales?” What did they have to do with anything?

“Yeah. We’re all different species. When you dress up your dog or cat, he doesn’t think it’s cute or fun. Depending on the animal it could be merely annoying or it could cause extreme anxiety about inhibiting their survival capabilities. We don’t do other species any favors when we pretend they’re homo sapiens.”

That made a lot of sense, although it was fun to anthropomorphize animals of any species.

“What was the vet’s conclusion about the origins of the wounds that didn’t come from a cut?”

“Lesions.”

Cason nodded. “Nice broad word.”

“I was worried it was cancer, but the vet said some dogs are prone to getting lesions like these. These two could be the only two he ever gets, or he could get a new one every month for the rest of his life.”

Cason nodded. “This isn’t what you want to hear, but I don’t know if I can fix the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll give it some thought, and I’ll do the research and talk to the other coaches, but I can’t guarantee success at this point. There is …” he paused to consider his words, “I can’t help but feel there are issues much deeper than skin deep and bigger than either you or me.”

As that sunk in, Cason went over to the dogs and stood between them. “Thank you, my lady, and, you sir have been a perfect gentleman. I’ll ask you both not to lick those wounds, but I realize it’s beyond your control.”

Cason came forward and shook Zandra’s hand. She pulled her hand away quickly and petted Fiyero with it to remove the traces of his soothing touch.

He said, “Thanks so much for letting me into your lives. If there is anything that can be done, we’ll do it.”

The if in the statement stuck out as starkly as Fiyero’s wounds. With one more scritch for the dogs, he went through the garage, got in his truck, and drove away.

Zandra pulled out her phone and composed a text to Emmett: This guy REALLY got our dogs. But he’s not sure anything can be done. Thanks again for the idea. You’re so good to me! Always focus on the positive, even if it’s not completely true. After selecting a spattering of appropriate emojis, she hit send, then realized he was in meetings. In his office. That phrase still stuck out to her.

Where else would he be in meetings? And why would he specify that? It wouldn’t leave her alone. Was it just nagging jealousy of his work and the hours he spent there? Or was this the ‘gentle whisper’ Pastor Jack had talked about on Sunday? The voice of the Lord wasn’t in the earthquake or a whirlwind; it had come afterward in a gentle whisper. Other translations of the Bible called it a still, small voice, a gentle blowing, or soft, gentle voice.

If it had to be words or an actual voice she could hear, maybe this wasn’t it. But those words in my office kept playing over again in a sort of silent whisper she couldn’t ignore.

Did the Lord still talk to people the same way he talked to Elijah on the mountain? And if He did, why was He talking to her? And why now, with this, when He’d ignored every supplication over the last few months?

“Let’s find out,” said Zandra, barely eliciting a glance in her direction from the dogs.

She opened the location app on her phone that let her and Emmett see where each other was at anytime. Sure enough, in his office.

Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? It’s not like today was any different than most days. He worked a lot. He was in meetings a lot. He visited a lot of houses. He made a lot of money, especially for a young guy who had only been in the industry half a dozen years. And he was really good at what he did.

There was a reason why Cornerstone Countertops was getting so much of the high-end new construction and remodeling business in the Birmingham area.

In my office. That whisper came again.

Once, she could brush aside.

Twice, she could make up a hundred reasons why she had doubts.

But three distinct times, that she couldn’t ignore.

It wasn’t her imagination—things were different than they had been as newlyweds. But they couldn’t be expected to stay the same forever.

Was it all the hours he spent at work? The fact that he wasn’t as open as he had been or interested in her life? Was it the fact that she had brought up having kids and he had practically run away from the idea … more than once? He wanted to enjoy life, to live life before taking on that responsibility. But he would be a freaking amazing father. She couldn’t wait for it to happen.

The changes were probably just natural for a married couple, especially considering the amount of time he spent at work.

“What do you think, Elfie? Is that it?”

This time Elfie turned her head and looked at Zandra as if she had something insightful to say, but would only tell her telepathically.

“You’re right,” said Zandra, “it’s silly of me to sit here and complain about never seeing him. Let’s go see him.” She stepped out of their way, then said, “Get in the truck.”

Those four words never failed to send them up and running more quickly than their stocky build let on they could.