by H. Y. Hanna
Suka rolled her eyes. “Doppelgänger. But yeah, Anja looks exactly like you. And humans don’t pay that much attention to details. If they look out the window, they’ll just see Anja sitting there and think it’s you. And they’ll think those lumps next to her are the rest of us, lying beside you. It’s dark anyway, so they won’t see very well.” She sniffed the air. “There’s mist in the air tonight. That’s good. Makes things even more hazy.”
“Don’t understand why we don’t just sneak off,” said Ruffster. “That’s what we usually do anyway.”
Suka heaved an exasperated sigh. “Because this way, the humans won’t get worried and start looking for us. They’ll think we’re still hanging around outside the caravan. It’ll buy us some time while we go and dig up those paper scraps.”
“What about the Breeder?” asked Honey. “Won’t she come looking for Anja?”
“She’s sleeping,” said Anja. “She was reading in the tent and then her head just went down on her book. She didn’t move when I crept away so I think she’s sleeping quite deeply. She’s really tired.”
“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t wake up then,” said Suka, grinning.
Honey looked at her friend. The Husky’s blue eyes were sparkling with excitement. She’s actually looking forward this whole thing, realised Honey with wry surprise. She couldn’t believe it. Here she was dreading the risks they were taking and worried about what might happen, while Suka looked like she was having the time of her life. Sometimes Honey wondered if Suka escaped simply for the thrill of escaping. And being cooped up in the show ring for the last few days certainly hadn’t done any favours for that wild Husky spirit—Suka was practically begging for an adventure.
“OK, wish me luck,” said Anja as she left the shadow of the caravan to take up her position.
Honey watched nervously. Suka was a genius when it came to planning escapes, but this time, she wondered if her friend had bitten off more than she could chew. So far, they had been lucky—they’d found the extra towels in a bag beside a car nearby and managed to grab several, dumping them together in front of the main caravan window. Biscuit had even found a bag of dog food and made the supreme sacrifice of not eating it, but had dragged it over to place it next to the towels. It wouldn’t fool anyone who came up close, but from a distance, in the gathering dark, they could pass for canine-shaped “lumps”.
Then they had waited—all on their best behaviour—while the humans had gathered in Suka’s caravan again after dinner. From the sounds of cheering and laughter drifting out of the caravan now, it seemed like the humans were playing that board game again. Now, if they could just sneak quietly away ...
Anja took up her position, sitting next to the “lumps”, a little way from the caravan window, but clearly visible if anyone looked out. She glanced back and gave Suka a nod—then the Husky began slinking towards the path, with the others hurriedly following.
Once they were on the path, Honey paused to get her bearings. The caravans were parked on the east side of the arena. To get to the other side—the west side—where the paper scraps were buried, they would have to walk all the way down, around the front of the arena and back up the west wall. It was a long walk. Honey was about to start when she noticed that Suka had paused and was turning her head in the other direction, sniffing the air.
“Why don’t we try going the other way?” Suka said. “Instead of going all the way around the front, if we go around the back of the arena, the route’s shorter and we’d get there quicker.”
Honey looked in the direction Suka was indicating. The path faded into darkness as it wove its way around the back end of the arena. Beyond the arena building, she could see nothing. But—she raised her nose and scented the air—she could smell grass, lots of grass, mixed with the smell of mud, and also a faint whiff of fresh water. Fields, she decided. There were open fields beyond the building, perhaps with a river beyond? The thought of walking into a big, unknown space in the dark didn’t really appeal to her, but Suka was already setting off with her loping Husky stride and the others were trailing behind her. Honey hesitated for a moment longer, then quickly followed them.
The night air felt cool and damp, the smell of rain still heavy in the air. In the distance, a faint mist was drifting along the horizon, like pale fingers waving in the night. Honey shivered and wondered again if this was a good idea. She thought of yesterday, when she had been out by the Viking ship, and she had seen the Phantom Hound disappearing into the field at the back of the arena. Even though she was sure the ghostly dog meant them no harm, she wasn’t that keen to follow in his paw steps this late at night.
They walked in silence until they reached the rear corner of the arena and met the fence. It ran up to the corner of the arena and then continued close alongside the back wall of the arena building, so that there was hardly any space between the wall and the fence. Certainly not enough space for a dog to squeeze through comfortably.
“Reckon we should go under the fence and walk across in the field on the other side,” said Ruffster. “Only way to reach the west side. We can cross back under when we get there.”
“This field is where I saw the Phantom Hound disappearing into yesterday,” said Honey uneasily.
“I’m not scared o’ some stupid ghost dog,” scoffed Ruffster, starting to crawl under the bottom bar of the fence. “Anyway, reckon that’s just your imagination playin’ tricks. Could have been a bit o’ mist or somethin’.”
“But—” Honey sighed. Suka and Biscuit had both wriggled through and taken off into the field already, with Ruffster following.
Honey gave up and lowered herself to the ground as well. The fence was wooden, with two bars that ran parallel to the ground, interspersed by thick posts every couple of metres. The space between the lowest bar and the ground was fairly wide, but what’s big enough for most dogs often isn’t big enough for a Great Dane. Honey scrunched herself up as small as she could and inched forwards on her stomach, hoping that she could crawl through under the lowest bar like the others had done. She managed to get her head, neck, and front legs through before she jammed at the shoulders.
Ah, ticks. She tried to back out, thinking that maybe she would try jumping over the fence instead, but although the fence creaked in protest, it did not release its grip on her. She was wedged tight between the lowest bar and the ground.
Honey fought down a momentary surge of panic. The others had disappeared and she was alone here in the dark with mist swirling closer and closer around her. She whimpered and the sound seemed to be swallowed by the night.
Think! she told herself. Stop being a cry-puppy and think! The space was obviously not big enough for her body to get through. So the answer was to make it bigger. Well, she couldn’t move the bar of the fence above her, but ... she could lower the level of the ground below by digging. She thought longingly of her friend, Tyson the Jack Russell Terrier. If only he was here! Tyson could dig a hole to China in his sleep. He would have got her out of here in no time.
But Tyson had gone away on holiday with his family and Honey knew that she had to rely on her own wits now. She scrabbled weakly with her front paws, but since she was lying on her stomach, with her front legs wedged underneath her, it was hard to angle them to get any grip on the soil. The only thing she could move freely was her head. She hesitated a moment, then reached down and bit into the ground, breaking a chunk of earth loose with her teeth. Turning her head aside, she spat the chunk out and then repeated the whole process.
It took several more mouthfuls of dirt before Honey had removed enough earth in front of her to make more space for her front paws. She could feel the soil crumbling away from her chest, easing the pressure there. She scrabbled forwards again, raking her front paws deeply into the soil, and this time she felt the ground loosen under her belly.
Elated, she lunged forwards again, pushing with her back legs, crawling slowly through. She felt the bar of the fence pressing down on her shoulders ...
then sliding down her back ... her hips ... She wriggled harder and, with a gasp, she popped out the other side.
CHAPTER 16
“Honey? Honey?” Ruffster suddenly loomed out of the mist. “What happened to you, mate? We thought you were right behind us!”
Honey spat out some remaining earth from her mouth and gave herself a good shake. Ruffster jumped back as soil and slobber flew in all directions.
“I got stuck under the fence,” said Honey.
Ruffster looked back at the hole scraped under the fence. “Festerin’ fleas, I’m always forgettin’ how much bigger you are. Sorry, mate. Should have stayed to help you.”
“It’s OK. Which way?”
“We’re followin’ the fence,” said Ruffster as he led the way. “Best way not to get lost.”
They caught up with Suka and Biscuit at the other corner of the arena building. Honey was relieved to see that the ground here sloped down from the field, leaving a wider gap under the lowest bar of the fence. By sucking her stomach in, she was able to crawl through this time relatively easily. Once back out of the field, she led her friends down the west wall of the arena building until they came to the side-door in the wall. A row of lavender bushes grew alongside the arena wall, stopping just by the side door, and Honey headed for the last bush on the end.
“I buried them here,” she said, starting to paw the earth.
Ruffster dived in and, a few minutes later, they stood looking down at the scraps of paper he had unearthed. The ground was damp from the rain and there were also the places where her drool had soaked into the paper as she carried it in her mouth. Honey was dismayed to see that some of the letters were blurred.
“Can you make any sense of them?” she asked hopefully.
“How do you know they’re not just stupid scraps o’ paper?” asked Ruffster, peering at the letters. “Looks like a load o’ gibberish to me.”
“I’m sure they hold an important message,” insisted Honey. “We just have to work it out.”
“They look like ... like the kind of words on bottles and boxes and things,” said Suka, tilting her head to look at the scraps of paper. “Not like when humans write words by their hands.”
“Yes, you’re right.” agreed Honey. “Printed words. All the letters are neat and the same size—and in a funny colour. Sort of orangey-pink ...”
“Maybe the letters used to be red and the colour has faded,” Biscuit suggested. “They look old.”
“I think they’re from ten years ago—from that last show before the fire,” Honey said. “Do they smell of anything?”
Biscuit sniffed. “Just old. And that black, burnt smell.”
“OK, let’s try to work out the message,” said Suka, moving the scraps around with her nose. The others watched her work silently. Finally she sat back and they looked at what she had done. The fragments of paper were laid out in two rows. Suka had rearranged the scraps and put several pieces together, so that now the letters read:
Ruffster stared at the scraps. “Still doesn’t make sense, mate. Who’s Don? And Mable?”
Suka shrugged. “Maybe they’re names of show dogs?”
“What’s a caye?” asked Honey.
“I think I ate some caye once,” said Biscuit, wrinkling his nose at the memory. “It wasn’t very nice. It made my mouth burn.”
“That’s not caye, that’s cayenne pepper,” said Suka, rolling her eyes. “I know what a caye is. I read about them in one of my Boy’s school books. They’re like small, sandy islands. There are lots of them in the sea around this place called Florida. They also call them keys, sometimes.”
“Huh?” said Ruffster, scratching his ear. “I thought keys are those things that open doors?”
“They are, but this is the same word with a different meaning.”
“But what do small, sandy islands have to do with a dog show?” asked Biscuit.
“Maybe that’s not the right word anyway,” suggested Honey. “Let’s try the letters in a different order.”
“Well, all right,” said Suka, grudgingly. “You try it then.”
“Let me try!” Ruffster said eagerly. After a minute, he sat back and everyone looked at the paper fragments again.
Honey cocked her head and wrinkled her brow. She didn’t want to say it, but the words seemed to make even less sense now.
“What’s a dutimab?” asked Biscuit. “Is it a kind of kebab?”
“This is even worse than what I did!” said Suka.
“Fine,” grumbled Ruffster. “See if you can do better.”
Suka looked at Honey. “Why don’t you have a go?”
Honey pawed one of the pieces hesitantly. Then slowly, she began moving them around. Finally, Honey stepped back and everybody looked down at the letters again. This time, they read:
“Flammable ...” read Ruffster. “What’s that mean?”
“I’ve seen that word on lots of bottles that Olivia has in the bathroom,” Honey explained. “Like one big bottle which she sprays on her hair.”
“Yeah, yeah—my Missus has bottles of things with that word on them,” said Biscuit, getting excited. “There’s one that really stinks. She puts it on her toes after she’s made them red, to take the red colour off again.”
“Mate, she makes her toes red—and then takes the colour off again?” Ruffster looked puzzled.
Biscuit shrugged. “Humans do weird things.”
“I’ve seen that word too,” said Suka. “I know what it means. If something is flammable, it means it can catch fire easily.”
Ruffster took a hasty step away from the paper fragments.
“Not these scraps,” said Honey reassuringly. “But maybe these bits of paper were stuck on something that was flammable.”
“Like what?” asked Ruffster.
Honey thought back to the cluttered storeroom. There were so many things in there, how could she know which one the paper fragments could have been stuck on?
“What about the other words?” asked Suka. “Who’s Don?”
“Maybe he’s a white dog?” suggested Biscuit. “It says ‘white don’.”
“No, no, wait—” said Ruffster excitedly. “It’s not ‘don’—quick, swap the letters ‘on’ for the letters ‘ye’! And then move ‘flammable’ to the end of the row.”
Honey did as she was told. They looked again. Now the letters spelled:
“That’s it!” cried Suka, wagging her plumed tail. “You’ve solved it, Ruffster! Now every word makes sense. The message is: ‘WHITE DYE CAUTION: FLAMMABLE’. These scraps of paper probably came from a bottle of white dye,”
“But I don’t understand,” said Honey, disappointed. “Why would the Phantom Hound want to tell me that? What does it mean?”
They all looked at each other blankly. Nobody had an answer.
Ruffster gave a disgusted grunt and said, “I told you this Phantom Hound thin’ is a waste o’ time.”
“No,” said Honey. “I’m sure he’s trying to tell me something important. We’ve just got to figure out what it is.”
“Well, maybe we ought to figure it out back at the caravan,” said Suka. “Anja’s probably wondering where we are now—if she hasn’t been found out already.”
They quickly reburied the scraps and then retraced their steps to the fence and the field. This time, Ruffster stayed behind to wait for Honey as she crawled through under the fence. As she stood up, she realised that the mist had thickened. It was hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. Already, she couldn’t see Suka and Biscuit ahead of them. She was glad they had the fence to guide them, otherwise it would have been easy to wander off and get lost in the field.
“You really think those scraps mean somethin’?” asked Ruffster sceptically as they set off.
Honey nodded. “I’m sure they do. The Phantom Hound led me straight to the storeroom. I think he’s trying to help me, trying to tell me who’s behind these attacks on the show dogs. Remember, Biscuit tracked the scen
t from the fake Peemail to that storeroom. And besides, the door was open and I’m sure other dogs had been in there. I’m sure Colette—” Too late, Honey caught herself.
“Colette?” Ruffster’s ears perked up. He had been walking slightly ahead of her, but now he turned around and looked at Honey eagerly. “You saw Colette?”
Honey hesitated. “No, I didn’t see her. But I know she was skulking outside the storeroom when I was in there. I heard her—and I picked up her scent. She’d snagged a bit of her coat on the door jamb.”
Ruffster stiffened. “What are you sayin’?”
“Ruffster, don’t you think it’s a bit of a coincidence the way she keeps turning up at these events? First that time in the rain ... and now in the storeroom ...”
“Yeah, but you could say that about me,” argued Ruffster. “Those other dogs who were gangin’ up on me earlier—they thought I was guilty ‘coz I was always around when dogs got hurt. Doesn’t mean I had anythin’ to do with it.”
“I suppose so,” Honey agreed reluctantly. She paused and looked at the swirling mist around them. Somehow, while they were talking, they seemed to have drifted away from the fence. She couldn’t see it at all now. “Ruffster ... where’s the fence?” she whispered.
Ruffster furrowed his brow. “Reckon it’s that way ... No, wait. This way ... Uh ... no, must be this way.”
He set off confidently into the mist and Honey followed. It was strange walking into that wall of white. She strained to see ahead, peering between the swirling vapour, sniffing the air uneasily.
“Are ... are you sure it’s this way?” Honey asked Ruffster, hurrying to keep up with him.
“Yeah, mate,” said the mongrel mutt, although his ears were starting to droop.
He picked his way carefully over the boggy ground. The grass seemed to be thinning out now, with the ground getting muddier and muddier. The constant rain over the last few days had flooded the field. Honey stumbled and stepped into a puddle, wrinkling her muzzle as cold water splashed up into her face. The mud made a sucking sound as she pulled her paws out of the water. She looked around, trying to find a drier piece of ground to step on, but everything around her seemed equally waterlogged. In fact, somehow they seemed to have ended up in some kind of marshland.
