She drew her breath to scream, convinced in that moment that this was her final act ... but was forestalled by the hound's affectionate slurp on her neck and by a short blowing sound with which she was intimately familiar. 

The monstrous form standing not five feet away was a horse.  

With a shaky hand, she tossed the dog's chin, stood, and looked about. There were several other large forms moving casually about in the murky night, making slight noises as they did, and for the first time the unmistakable aroma of horse touched her nostrils. Trembling though she was, the familiar scene sent an enormous cascade of relief through her.

Still, she was cautious. Unfamiliar animals, especially in the dark, could be dangerous, and her late neighbor's unhappy fate was a reminder never to be careless around such powerful creatures. For the first time that night, it occurred to Kate to reach into her coat pocket to recover her flashlight—it wasn't clear whether she should be proud of that fact or mortified. Careful not to startle the animals, she spent half an hour moving around and inspecting the area.

Leona had informed her a temporary caretaker was tending to the Phelps property while the estate was being settled. Obviously, the person wasn't doing a decent job. The horses should have been in for the night, and, worse, a substantial section of wooden fence was down about seventy yards from where the animals now milled. Her initial count showed eight beasts were present, but there was no telling whether others might have wandered farther from their pasture. It took her about two hours, but she managed to lead or shoo the mostly docile animals back into the pasture, and after much puffing, lifting, and sweating she got the fence back up. It wasn't sturdy, but it would do until the caretaker applied a permanent fix. She would call Leona in the morning.

Another hour's rest and some more water and snacks made her feel a new woman. Flashes of anxiety still plagued her, but the relief that she'd not been locked in a life-and-death battle with Bigfoot made her feel buoyant, if only a little stupid.

And yet, there was something. Her senses had told her that the form that nearly collided with her in the woods had been on two legs.

"No," she said aloud to herself and the dog. "We're not going down that rabbit hole, not tonight." Someone needed to give Kate Johnson a good talking to, and the dog hadn't been holding up his end of the conversation. He was draped half across her lap, keeping her warm and doing his best to keep his neck available for scratching. The horses, who congregated nearby on the far side of the fence, seemed not to bother him now in the least. "No more talk of Bigfoot," she scolded the silly mutt. "And nobody needs to know about this ... got it?"

With more rest, she came up with a plan. She'd seen the Phelps spread from across the property line several times, and if this was the fence she thought, then she need only follow the fence to the nearest corner and take a half left. That course should take her in the general direction of home. There was no use in further delay, so she steadied herself and set off immediately.

The walk should have taken her thirty or forty minutes, but after some nervous missteps and a few lucky guesses, a still frightened but much relieved Kate arrived back home as the first light of dawn cracked. When she approached the barn, she made out the form of Eli's truck in the half-light and realized she'd not left him any sort of note. His familiar form was soon making its way toward her, a look of great relief on his wonderful face. They met at the log they so often used as a bench. There, the dog yawned and curled up to nap, and she leaned her shotgun.

"Another five minutes, and I was going to call the sheriff," Eli said as he took her in his arms.

"I'm sorry," she rasped. "Me and the dog went on an adventure."

"Oh, jeez, you are ripe. Has he been giving you grooming tips, too?"

"He kept me warm. I decided last night to name him Elijah, in your honor." She pulled back and looked into his eyes when there was no reply. "You know ... because he's tough and independent, like you."

"Are you sure it's not because you managed to domesticate the both of us?"

"No. But I changed my mind. As right as it felt at that moment, that's just too strange of a way to name a dog. I settled on Lazlo, instead."

Eli smiled and looked down to where the hound was curled up, snoozing. "Lazlo," he commanded.

The hound perked up and gazed expectantly back and forth between Kate and Eli.

"He seems to like it," her friend observed.

"I think he just responded to your tone. It's unlikely he'll ever have the smarts to answer to anything, but Daisy needs something other than bonehead or pea-brain for her records."

"But why Lazlo?"

"I dunno," she whispered. "I liked that name from the moment I first heard it." And maybe because he carried me through the night, she said only to herself. "And I've decided to name this place 'Home.'"

"Just 'Home'?"

She pulled him close again and kissed him repeatedly on the neck. "Yep," she whispered. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put a fright into you. I went on an adventure ... and got lost."

"Well, you're found now. Don't scare me like that again ... please." His voice was gentle but deep with emotion.

"I won't," she whispered back. It dawned on her at that moment how weary she was of their chastity. "Could we sleep without our clothes on, tonight?"

"Only if you take a bath.'

"I'll take several ... and we can give the dog one too."

They went inside, her to clean up and grab a short nap and him to make them something for breakfast. She knew it would be a wonderful day, especially after the night she and the hound had spent exploring and facing down the unknown.

She'd realized during that night that she'd probably never get to the bottom of Flying Guy, but part of her deeply wanted to believe it wasn't just an illusion. The entire notion that such things existed frightened her, terrified her to the very quick, but had added a sense of wonder to her life, a sense that anything, anything at all, good or bad, was possible. That idea was something she now couldn't do without.