Right now, the sight of Duke’s slow and steady progress was the only thing keeping Bobby’s fear at bay.

​

The lead hitched slightly in his hand. Duke’s ears twitched. They had been walking for a good thirty minutes, uninterrupted, and now Duke slowed, came to a stop. Bobby felt pin pricks of fear in his chest, stomach, the back of his neck. He came up short behind Duke, honed in now on the lift of his dog’s ears, the turn of his head. Right. Then left. That’s when the fear solidified. Bobby dropped to one knee behind Duke and raised his clenched fist to signal the rest of patrol to drop.

​

Bobby tried to gauge which way the air was moving. In the stifling heat it was nearly impossible to tell, but he’d been sure that Duke was downwind. They’d taught him in training that if the wind shifted it would be impossible for the dogs to discern which direction a scent was coming from. Bobby glanced up at the leaves just above their heads, zeroed in on one green leaf. It rippled slightly and Bobby took a deep breath. What breeze there was was definitely coming at them.

 

He glanced back down at Duke...