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I tried to orient myself in the fog, but of course there was nothing to navigate by except our own trail through the wet grass. It looked pretty straight, but I knew we could still be way off-course. The sirens were louder behind us, but the fog distorted the sound direction.
Then I heard something coming through the grass. An animal something, not a human. The new question of the moment: my dogs or theirs?
“Ready Mace,” I said, and put us into a back to back stance, each with a Mace canister at the ready. The sirens stopped and now the fog completely enveloped the building and the fire. I could feel Moira’s legs trembling against mine.
We waited. A full minute passed, then another.
Then there was a low rumbling growl out there in the fog. I wanted to point my canister in the right direction, but there was no way to tell in that fog.
A second growl, seemingly closer, but from a different direction. If it was the Rottweiler, he was circling us. He knew there was human prey out there, but not how many, and once he left our scent trail, he was operating blind, too.
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