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weak.
    â€œMcKinley,” he said in a hushed voice, “that was the wolf.”
    The boy went down on his knees.
    â€œWasn’t he wonderful?” He threw his arms around McKinley’s neck and buried his face in his dog’s fur. “And you were great.”
    Puzzled, McKinley wagged his tail.
    â€œMcKinley,” the boy went on, “I’m sure that’s the wolf I saw before. Wasn’t he beautiful? And powerful. In that story, The Jungle Book, this kid lives with wolves just like that. They teach him all this neat stuff. That would be so cool.”
    The boy glanced at the sky. It had darkened. The moon had risen behind clouds. He said, “We better get going. The folks will be worried if I’m not home soon.” He grasped McKinley’s collar. “Home, boy,” he said. “Take us home.”
    McKinley, barking twice at the word home, began moving back down the trail.
    Jack continued to chatter as they traveled. “I didsee a lot of wolves once, at the zoo in Denver. But you know what, McKinley? They didn’t look so great. I mean, this one is so cool, isn’t he? But did you notice his limp? Wonder what happened to him, where he came from. I mean, if I joined up with him I wouldn’t have to stay with the wolves long. Just a week, maybe. Be so sweet. Double sweet.
    â€œThing is, I bet my parents wouldn’t let me. They’d say, like, I’m too young. Or, you know, I can’t miss school. So I’d have to do it without them knowing.”
    Paying little attention to Jack, McKinley was still enthralled by the sense of power that had radiated from Lupin. And her challenge. It was troubling.
    Something about what he’d heard made him uneasy. He had always considered himself completely free. True, from time to time there had been problems: made to stay in the house when he hadn’t wished to; the occasional questioning of his authority as the town’s head dog; the difficulties humans—such as Pycraft—presented. But, all inall, he had always believed he lived a good life. Yet Lupin was freer than him.
    The more McKinley thought about that, the more he found Jack’s grip on his collar irritating, as if he were being choked.
    Shaking his head vigorously, he forced the boy to let go.
    â€œSorry, boy,” Jack said. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    For a moment, McKinley recalled the wolf’s scent. It was free of anything human. Just the thought of it made McKinley pant with amazement.
    â€œHey, McKinley, do you think you can find my bike?” he heard Jack say as though from a distant place.
    McKinley looked around. The boy’s face, in the cloud-shrouded moonlight, seemed soft, helpless.
    â€œWe never did find Duchess, did we, McKinley?” the pup said. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to tell my folks I saw the wolf again. Even Dad said I shouldn’t talk abouthim. He thinks people would hunt any wolf down. And if I’m going after him—”
    McKinley growled.
    Jack said, “What’s the matter?”
    Having heard the words hunt and wolf, McKinley gazed at the boy, head cocked.
    â€œHey,” Jack said, “if I went off to join the wolves, would you come with me? You understand, don’t you, boy?” Speaking slowly, the pup pointed to himself. “I’m going to stay with”—he pointed back up the trail—“the wolves.”
    At last McKinley understood: Jack wanted to go off with Lupin. The idea horrified him. Fine for Duchess, but not the boy. Duchess could survive. Jack would not.
    He turned and trotted off, not stopping till they reached the pup’s bike.
    â€œGood boy,” Jack cried when he saw it. He bent over and tried to give McKinley another hug.
    McKinley backed away.
    â€œHey, don’t act so insulted, McKinley. It’ll be all right, I promise. I won’t stay with the wolf