“Are we a kind of dog?” Littlest One asked suddenly. Unaware, the woman and her dog slept soundly, though the dog, on his pillow bed of cedar shavings at the foot of the woman’s four-poster, moved his legs now and then as if chasing a dream rabbit. The outdoors was awake and stirring but the little house was dark and silent. Night was their time of work, the time when human conversation had ceased, when thoughts had drifted away and even breathing and heartbeats had slowed. The pair crept stealthily through the small house. Two deer moved in tandem through a meadow. Startled, a raccoon looked up with bright eyes from the place where he was foraging. Somewhere nearby, heavy wings swooped and a young rabbit, captured by sharp talons, shrieked as he was lifted to his doom.
An owl called, its shuddering hoots repeating mournfully in the distance.
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