Instinct

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RIGHT OFF THE BAT I SHOULD say that I didn’t like the dog. It wasn’t anything personal. I’m just not a dog person. I prefer my companions to have a bit more conversation and a bit less in the stink and teeth department. I should also say that the feeling was mutual. As the others fawned over the great brute, it stood there glowering at me as if determining if it would prefer me raw or lightly broiled.

Renthrette and Garnet had brought it home. Naturally. They said it would make an excellent watchdog, but really, they just liked its fur, which was white, and its eyes, which were blue, and its teeth, which were massive.

Also, they liked that it scared me.

“It’s just a dog, Will,” said Renthrette, pulling her sword from its sheath and rubbing its edge with a greasy rag. “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t trust large animals,” I replied. “You know that.”

Getting me to ride a horse had required the kind of effort usually reserved for redirecting rivers.

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