He swung the backpack again, bashing Brutus in what he hoped was the face. Some warm, wet drops hit his stomach. And then Brutus's talons raked down his leg, not scraping deep, but enough to rip through his jeans and almost certainly draw blood.

"Owen!"

He kicked. Something gave way beneath his shoe, and Brutus let out a sharp whine like a hurt dog. Toby scooted backward, wincing as his hands came down on rough branches. He thought he might have knocked out some of Brutus's teeth, but he couldn't be sure.

The talons wrapped around his ankle again.

He bashed his free foot against them. This time he knew without seeing that he'd broken off at least a couple of the talons. Brutus howled.

Toby scrambled back until he collided with a tree. He immediately turned around, grabbed a branch to help pull himself to his feet, and began to climb, the backpack dangling from his shoulder. He'd never seen Owen climb anything, so maybe- Brutus yanked him off the tree.

Then something yanked Brutus off him.

There was hissing and tearing and chaos but Toby tried to focus entirely on climbing the branches. Get up the tree, farther than Brutus could reach. Keep himself from being shredded just long enough for Owen to make everything all right.

A roar of pain. Owen.

Toby grabbed for the branch he'd been pulled from. Found it in the dark. Used it to steady himself as he stepped up onto the lowest branch and started to climb again. In his panic, he tugged so hard on the next branch that it snapped free and he nearly lost his balance, almost plunging into the bedlam below.

He kept moving.

The tree shook as both monsters slammed into it.

Toby climbed up a few more feet, just to be sure he was high enough. His left hand stung like crazy-he'd really gouged it bad on one of the branches.

He held on tight, trying to catch his breath as he watched the two black figures struggle. His eyes had only barely begun to adjust to the darkness, not enough to let him make out any details, but the sounds and the shapes were enough to prove that neither creature had any intention of letting the other live.

A wail from farther away. The child?

Toby let go of the tree with his bloody hand and unzipped the backpack, fishing out the flashlight. He turned it on and shone the beam downward, just in time to catch a glimpse of Brutus's talons tearing across Owen's chest.

Owen howled and returned the vicious favor.

They circled each other, snarling. Brutus dove at him, and both monsters rolled on the ground, clawing, growling, biting.

Toby watched the spectacle with horror. Please don't let Owen die Please don't let Owen die...

But a small part of him, a part that remained an eight-year-old boy, watched in amazement, unable to believe that he was actually getting to watch two bloodthirsty monsters battle it out in a death match.

Then he cringed as Brutus jammed his talons deep into Owen's side.

Owen threw back his head and let out a sound of such intense distress that it felt like a crossbow bolt piercing Toby's brain. Toby screamed Owen's name, wishing he could do something something to save his friend. to save his friend.

Owen clearly had no intention of giving up the fight. He lowered himself into a crouch, then locked his jaws onto Brutus's leg. The other monster bellowed with pain and tried to shake him off, but Owen's teeth remained deep in his flesh, not coming loose until Owen tore off six inches of bloody fur.

Toby threw the only thing in his backpack that had any real weight-his thermos. It was a perfect throw, cracking against the back of Brutus's skull, but it didn't seem to faze the monster.

Though Toby couldn't see Brutus's eyes, he could imagine them, bloodshot and red with rage. Brutus slashed Owen across the chest with his claws once, twice, three times.

Toby didn't know what he could do to help, but he had to try something. He couldn't just hide in a tree and watch Owen get ripped apart. Better to die on the ground. If he had to, he'd beat Brutus to death with the goddamn flashlight.

He climbed down a couple of branches, then jumped all the way. The light beam shifted as he landed, clearly illuminating Owen's face. Owen gaped at him as if to say, "What the hell are you doing?"

Brutus looked at him as well. Despite his blood-soaked fur and a protruding bone, the monster still appeared hungry.

Owen grabbed Brutus by the wrist and swung him into a different tree. Brutus's elbow collided with the trunk, his arm snapping backward, bone bursting through fur.

And then Owen's hands were in Brutus's mouth, and he was pulling, Brutus's teeth were embedded in his palms but Owen kept pulling, and Brutus's tongue lashed back and forth, and blood dribbled between Owen's fingers, and Owen's eyes were squeezed shut and his jaws were closed tight as he struggled and struggled and then there was a wet rip rip as Brutus's cheeks tore apart and a as Brutus's cheeks tore apart and a crack crack as the top half of his head was wrenched backward. as the top half of his head was wrenched backward.

Owen released his grip, and the dead beast dropped to the ground.

Another wail.

Toby swung the flashlight beam around. Esmerelda and Scruffer stood there. Scruffer moved first, but within seconds both of them were cradling Brutus's limp form.

Owen stared at them. He raised his palm over his eyes as Toby flashed the light in his face. Toby thought he'd caught a glimpse of a tear.

Toby took Owen by the wrist and quickly led him through the woods, away from there.

"I'm sorry," Toby said, after they'd gone far enough that the howls of sorrow could no longer be heard. Owen said nothing.

It was a long journey home. They were both tired and hurt and, though Owen became slightly more communicative after their first afternoon nap, the monster seemed depressed.

Toby wondered if Owen would have followed him back to Orange Leaf had Toby's plan to sneak off in the middle of the night been successful. He liked to think that Owen would have. And at least then it would've been Owen's choice, instead of the way it was now, where he was banished from a society with a known population of three.

"We'll really fix the cave up nice," Toby said. "We'll dig our own pond. How long can that take with claws like you've got? We'll build ourselves a luxury resort right out there in the woods. What do you want to call it?"

Stop.

"Stop what?"

Stop talk.

"Fine. Whatever."

"I know you're busy being all sad and stuff, but I would like to take a moment to point out how unbelievably cool it was when you ripped that thing's head in half," Toby said.

That seemed to cheer Owen up a bit.

"Do you know what makes you such a good friend?" Toby asked. "The fact that without you, I'd be dead now. I'm not talking about you saving my life, because I definitely would have done that for you if our roles were reversed. Oh, yeah, I would've grabbed that thing by the jaw and tore its chin right off, mark my words. But what I appreciate most in our friendship right now is your animal instinct, because I never thought that this whole voyage was supposed to be a one-way trip, and so I wasn't leaving any bread crumbs to mark my way home. I'd be dead right now. Completely dead. Wolves would be snacking on me, and forest monkeys would be tossing my clothes around. So thank you, Owen, for your innate sense of direction."

Yes.

"Damn, but you're a good conversationalist. Time to change your bandages."

"Know what you need? A last name. I think you've earned it. Owen Smith? Owen White? Owen Jones? Owen Death-TeethBiter? When we get home, if we ever do, we'll just march right into city hall and demand the necessary paperwork to give you a last name. How does that sound?"

"Are we there yet?"

No.

"Are you sure?"

Yes.

"Are we there yet?"

No.

"Are you sure?"

Yes.

The thermos was long empty, and they hadn't found a stream or a pond or any water at all since yesterday. Toby was no longer sure that Owen was taking him back the same way. This could be really bad.

The sound of a car driving past.

Toby rushed up ahead, and emerged from the forest next to a paved road. He recognized the graffiti on the CURVE AHEAD sign, and returned to Owen.

"We're fifteen fifteen miles off," he announced. "I really wish you could hitchhike. I take back my compliments about your sense of direction." miles off," he announced. "I really wish you could hitchhike. I take back my compliments about your sense of direction."

They continued walking through the forest together, following the road but staying deep enough in the woods that no passing vehicles would see the man and his monster.

The cave did not actually glow with an otherworldly golden aura, but it seemed to for a moment. Toby changed Owen's bandages again, gave the monster a hug, and then left him to get some desperately needed rest.

When Toby got home and looked at himself in the mirror, he nearly ran screaming from the house. Wow. That must be what feral people who'd been raised by wolves looked like.

He showered until the hot water was gone.

Then he slept.

Then he tried to figure out how exactly he was going to explain his absence from work.

"I don't believe you," said Mr. Zack, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Toby, I don't believe you."

"How can you not believe me? I'm all beat up!"

"Because when people are in car accidents, they call. Not necessarily the first day, but by the seventh day they usually think to pick up the phone."

"I was in Maine!"

"They have phones in Maine. I've seen them. If you bring me a note from your doctor in Maine that says that you were in such bad shape that you couldn't even make a phone call, or ask somebody to make a phone call for you, then I'll reconsider. Otherwise, I have to follow my gut instinct that you're lying. I'm happy to cut you lots of slack, you know that, but I can't have people working for me who are unreliable. You can goof off and mouth off and boink your girlfriend in the stockroom, but..." He trailed off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought her up. That was horrible."

"It's okay."

"But you understand what I'm saying, right? You can't disappear for a week and expect a job to be waiting for you when you get back."

Toby nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

Toby sat on his couch, newspaper open to the classified ads. He'd circled a couple of items, but there wasn't anything that came close to singing out to him.

He skimmed the ads again, just in case there was something amazingly exciting that he'd missed.