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into her throat.
    She closed her eyes and prayed fervently. The growling became louder and more distinct, and her breath caught as she wondered if she’d already been discovered.
    “In for a penny,” she quoted through gritted teeth, then yanked on the zipper. It moved, sliding the rest of the way up the doorway.
    Thank God.
    She remained still for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then began crawling slowly toward her supplies.
    She didn’t see any movement, and the air was crisp and abnormally silent. No cricket chirping laced the air. No owls hooting. Not even the scratching of paws on her boxes.
    Silence. She wanted to scream to ease the tension. She bit her lip, hard.
    At least, for the moment, she didn’t see any big, furry objects. She could be thankful for that, anyway.
    No wolves.
    Maybe the animal or animals had left. She inched toward her supplies, wincing as loose gravel cut into her knees and palms.
    Four feet to go, then two.
    The closer she moved to her supplies, the louder her heart pounded in her ears, to the point where she wondered if she would be able to hear anything else.
    Paradoxically her senses were overdefined from adrenaline, crystal clear and amplified. Strained to tautness, she thought she might break. Despite the fact that she could see and hear nothing out of the ordinary, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling she was being watched.
    When she was within an arm’s length of the nearest box, she took a deep breath and held it, then slid forward, reaching for the box behind it, the one containing the rags and lighter fluid.
    Her hand was poised just above the boxes when a whiz of fur popped up from behind the box. Startled beyond belief, she fell backward onto the gravel, exclaiming in pain as the small, sharp rocks bit into her palms.
    Two dark, beady eyes were staring back at her from behind a black mask, and the intruder told her off with a full minute of chattering.
    A true bandit.
    He was the biggest, meanest-looking raccoon Dixie had ever laid eyes on, not that she’d seen many. For some reason, she’d always assumed raccoons were gentle creatures—and considerably smaller than the one staring her down.
    The menacing raccoon appeared to be angry with her for interrupting his dinner, chattering angrily and waving his paws.
    She stiffened, affronted by the raccoon’s rude behavior. It was her food, after all, and he was the uninvited guest.
    Would “Shoo” work with an animal his size?
    She was on the verge of standing when the raccoon leaned forward, still chattering incessantly.
    Was he poising for attack?
    Her mind flew as she considered what to do. She’d never heard of a raccoon attacking a person before, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. Especially out here in the wilderness.
    Think!
    This particular raccoon was clearly aggressive and not the least bit afraid. He hadn’t run when she approached. And hadn’t she read somewhere raccoons carry rabies?
    Was this raccoon rabid?
    She squinted, trying to see his mouth in the dark. She thought rabid animals foamed at the mouth. She didn’t think this fellow was foaming.
    All of the sudden, the raccoon hissed and ran toward her. She backed away crab-style, kicking gravel at the terrifying animal.
    In the same moment, she felt something fast and furry brush past her left shoulder. Instinctively she ducked and tucked her head to her knees, preparing to be eaten alive.
    When nothing happened, she dared a quick peek through her fingers. She heard a growl, and half expected to be a midnight snack for both raccoon and wolf.
    She didn’t know which was worse.
    Instead, she found herself looking at the shaggy, unkempt fur of a black-and-white Border collie who’d planted herself between Dixie and the violent raccoon, teeth bared.
    What Dixie couldn’t do took the dog only seconds, as she chased the raccoon away from the supplies and off into the night. Dixie leaned back on her heels and concentrated on