"Here, chiot. Nice dog. Good dog."

I shifted my gaze from the bad master to the shadow men. They were creeping toward me, hands reaching...and in the dim light of the moon, their hats glinted.

I would not be taken.

I would not be returned.

I would not go back in the box.

With one last look at the bad master, I turned and ran.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

If the bad master was dead, then I could not be returned. No matter what I did, no matter what offense I committed, I would not be brought back. I could not be brought back. But I would be careful just the same. I ran past trees. Splashed through the brook. Scrambled up a hill.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

I paused for a moment, panting. I was hungry. I was thirsty. I was losing my strength. I could feel it seeping out of my legs.

I crouched for a moment.

Tugged at Legrand's hide with my teeth.

No. There was no way to get rid of it. The sooner I made it to the good master's, the sooner it would be removed. I would be fed all I wanted and just a little bit more. My wounds would be tended. There would be cream and a lap and a fire. And a gentle hand stroking my skin.

I pushed to my feet. Stumbled over a gnarled tree root.

On I ran. Up and down. Over and around.

And then I paused.

Lifted an ear. Took a listen. Lifted my nose. Took a smell.

There was something at the edge of the forest this night.

Something different.

I took another sniff.

Something...strange.

But finally, at last, I saw light blinking through the trees. The forest had thinned, and the ground had flattened. But before I put out a paw and stepped away from the trees, I paused once more.

Took a listen.

I heard nothing.

Took a sniff. But...that smell.

Strange.

I walked into the clearing. A horse whinnied. A pig snorted.

But...I paused.

Lifted an ear to listen.

Everything...waited. I could feel it.

Waited and watched.

I started off again. More slowly this time. Ten steps more, and I would be at the kind master's. I saw his outline against the open door. He was waving at me.

I ran to meet him.

"Non! Non! Run. Run away! Do not come this way. Go back! Go home!"

I skidded to a halt as two shadows appeared from the walls of the house. They were wearing shimmering clothes. And glinting hats.

I stopped. Barked.

"Run. Run away!"

The shadows closed in on my master. "We arrest you for smuggling, in the name of the King."

I took a step nearer.

My master broke free. Ran at me.

"Run. Get away!"

A light blazed from the shadow, and my master fell to the ground at my feet.

Slowly, slowly, he stretched out a hand.

"Moncher. Moncher...Mon cher argent..."

I put my nose beneath his hand and pushed it up to my muzzle so he could stroke it.

"Mon cher..."

He was...I pulled my snout from his hand. Lifted my nose to sniff. Held up an ear to listen. There was no sound coming from the master. And no scent but that of blood. He was dead.

I lifted my head and howled. And then I howled some more.

"Get that dog. Shoot him if you have to."

"And risk the lace?"

"Just do it."

As the shadow men advanced, I abandoned my master, ran back through the clearing and into the forest.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

They're dead. They're dead. They're dead.

I ran back toward the hills.

Paused.

Collapsed.

And it was only then I stopped to listen.

I heard...a rustling in the forest. Twigs snapping. A panting that was not me.

I paused to sniff.

I smelled again that strange smell. It was following me. I did not know what to do, and so I crawled to the roots of a tree, settled myself between them, and put my head down on my paws.

They're dead.

I closed my eyes.

No food, no drink.

No fire, no gentle hands.

No lap.

No soft whispering of my name.

No more Chiant... but no more Moncher.

I whined. Once. Twice.

And then I smelled that scent again. That scent that smelled of...nothing. It was not an animal. There was no musk or staleness to it. But it was not a person. There was no sourness, no odor. It was...it was...an empty space in the air.

I lifted my head. Sniffed.

Lifted an ear. Listened. The snapping of twigs had come closer.

I sniffed again. That smell of nothing had cut a wider swath in the air. But what did it matter? There was no food waiting for me. I curled myself into a ball and hid my nose beneath my paws.

The thing in the forest had crept quite near.

"Chiot." It was said in the barest of whispers.

I raised my head. Looked out toward the forest and into the eyes of a man. He was crouched before me against the trunk of the tree.

"Come here."

As I watched, a hand stretched out toward me.

I recoiled.

"Come here, chiot. Come here...please!"

He was not wearing the shimmering clothes. He did not wear a glinting hat.

"Come here. What do you want? Are you hungry? I will get you food...just...just stay. Stay right there." He stood and put a hand inside his clothes. When he withdrew it, he held it out toward me.

I raised my head. Held my nose high to take a sniff.

Food.

"Come here." He waved it at me. Set it within the hollow of his hand and held it out. "It's for you. Come here, chiot. Come here, mon cher."

Moncher? He knew my name! I leaped to my feet and closed the distance between us.

Chapter 19.

Lisette Lefort Chateau of Eronville

The province of Orleanais, France

It had been nearly three weeks since I had come to the Chateau of Eronville. The province of Orleanais was gentler and milder than my native Gascogne. There were streams here, and hills, but they were of the softer, less pronounced variety. The land ascended less abruptly; the streams ran more slowly. Though I missed Souboscq's sand-colored stone and the red tiles of the roof, the Chateau of Eronville was charming. It must once have served a defensive purpose, for it was comprised of a collection of towers, though the arrow slits had long since been replaced by paned windows. The drawbridge spanned an admirably deep, dry moat in which a herd of goats seemed to be constantly grazing. The count, though rarely present inside the chateau, was often seen skulking in the shadows of the garden or pacing out in front of the stables.