The Hound didn't lie about healing. The legs healed shortly after we began questioning it, which makes sense considering our first confrontation. Its power did wane significantly within its aura though, so it must be a tradeoff.

However, questioning the Hound did not go as we had hoped. With its ability to speak only in emotions and simple words, I didn't get a lot of information nor did I gain any new insights. What I did gain, however, is a pet apparently.

After it was clear I wasn't going to get any good answers, I walked away to retrieve my phone, shirt and pants. That is when it started to follow me, and no effort of will or trying to scare it away, would make it leave. Not that I would have actually let it get away again, but it is acting like an old dog that I have had for years. My burn is now extinguished and I am cupping myself in my hands and searching for the rock where I left my stuff. The search isn’t going well. A few times I think I spot it, but it turns out to be a grocery bag or something. Annoyed doesn't begin to properly describe how I feel about wandering the fields completely naked until I realize I have the equivalent to a dog next to me. A giant, lava-filled dog, but perhaps dog enough.

“Can you track?”

(Master?) I can't tell if it is asking for me to track its master or if it's asking me to elaborate, so I try again.

“Can you track my scent back to my pants?”

(Of course, master.) The Hound's tongue lolls out to the side of its mouth and it bobs its head in a very anthropomorphized scooby-doo-esque manner. It sniffs me, then the air and starts moving, keeping its nose to the ground.

“Wait,” I say before it gets too far. It stops and looks back at me. “You can't look like that when we get to the road.”

(Master?) It says again. Okay, it is definitely calling me that.

“You can't look like that here. Can you . . .” How do I put this? “Can you make yourself look different?”

(Master not like skin of Beast?)

“No, it's not that. It's just that in this world, your regular look is… off-putting. You need to tone down your appearance until I get back to that guy, uh. What was his name? It was a bug of some kind. Until I get back to him and get rid of you. And don't call me that.”

(Lord Mikael want Beast gone?)

“Well, I didn't ask for you. I don't see why you would want to stick around. Don't you wanna go back home?”

(Lord Mikael ask for Beast. Beast slept long. Beast will change.) The Hound shimmers briefly before vibrating visibly again. It reduces in size. Not by a lot, but by enough that it is the size of a dog that could exist–even if it is the size of an Irish Wolfhound mixed with an English Mastiff. The molten appearance has faded and it now has what looks like jet-black fur. Its irises stay orange, though, which makes the now large black dog's gaze off-putting instead of its appearance. Finally, the fangs retract enough that they don’t hang below its jaw. Overall, it’s still very intimidating, but this is doable. I study its new form, giving a half-hearted shrug of approval. It trots off like a happy dog and continues following the scent. It takes no time at all to find my clothes and phone–only about four minutes of walking after I let the Hound take over. In fact, I think I may have taken us farther away when I was trying to find it myself. I stay in the field and look for any sign of people or cars on the road before I move up to the rock where I left my phone. I considered sending the hound to grab them, but didn’t want them covered in drool or anything. It feels great to slide on the pants and shirt. I pick up the phone, feeling it vibrate with notifications. I have seven missed calls, and I don't even want to count the text messages. I will check all of them out later, but right now, I have to call Anna and see if she can come back and pick me up . . . Us up.

Scrolling through my numbers, I find hers and I tap it. Then I remember that she lost her phone, so I back out and scroll to my mom's and call her instead. My feet sink into the dirt of the field while I wait. It rings, and the Hound sniffs around at the ground then sits next to me.

“Mikael?! Hello?” she yells into my ear. I tilt my head away from the receiver, pulling the phone away from my ear as well. “Honey, are you okay? Mikael?!”

“Mom, I'm fine. It's–I'm okay.” I almost said calm down, but I stopped myself. It should be a cardinal rule to never say that to anyone who is rightfully emotional.

“Where are you? Anna came and said you were going to fight or something.”

“I'm right where she dropped me off. I did have a brief fight, but we got it figured out.”

“Okay,” I hear muffled speaking, like she's covering up the receiver. “Okay. Good,” she says. Then I hear Anna say something in the background. “Anna says we're almost there.”

I can see them in the distance, speeding down the road toward me.

“Okay, I see you,” I say, waving a hand as they get closer, “It's me and, uh, this… dog.”

“Dog?”

They pull up and slow to a stop in front of me. The Hound's front paws alternate between picking up and dropping to the ground, and it releases a small barking huff. I reach down to put my thumb on its snout and my fingers underneath its jaw, closing its mouth and holding it shut.

“Hey. I'm so glad you guys were already on your way. It's cold out here.”

The Hound tries to bark again, but I'm still holding its mouth.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Mikael, honey, what is that?” she asks in a mollifying tone. She points at the Hound.

I look down at it, then back up to her. “This is the dog I was telling you about.”

She eyes it, then turns her attention to me.

“That is not a dog,” she says.

“It is right now,” I say and open the rear passenger door. “Rub the dirt off your feet,” I say, doing it myself on the grass. It follows my example then jumps into the car and the struts and shocks squeak with the effort of holding its weight. It changed its form, but I will have to see if it can change its mass. It turns in the back seat, settles in, and I climb in next to it. Once I sit, it lays its head on my lap. I unconsciously scratch and pet its head until I realize what I am doing and stop. It looks up at me, and its orange eyes peer into mine.

(New skin pleases Master?) It says, its tail thumping loudly against the car door near its hind quarters.

“Uh, I guess so? And I asked you to stop calling me that.”

(Apology, Lord Mikael.)

“Not really sure I like that either,” I say. It breaks eye contact and puts its head back on my lap. I look into the front seat, and both mom and Anna are staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

They both look at the Hound, then each other, then back at me.

“Are you talking to that dog?” Anna asks, with a heavy emphasis on the word 'dog'

“Yes, he's actually pretty chatty. Can you not hear him?”

It looks at me and bows its head low.

“No,” they both say.

(Apology, Lord Mikael. Beast can speak all. Beast only speak to Master.) The Hound says with its ears pinned down. I let out an exasperated sigh. Did I just hurt its feelings?

“What are you gonna do with it?” Mom asks.

“Right now, I'd like to get home and get new clothes. After that, I'm taking it with me to go speak to Anna's therapist.”

Mom looks at her under raised eyebrows.

“Long story,” Anna says. “So, back to your house first?” she asks.

“Yeah, please,” I say.

She glances between me and my new attachment once more, then turns around and pulls away from the field.

Mom asks a bunch of questions on the way back. I give her what answers I can until we arrive back at my house. Vithar is sitting on the porch steps and stands once we pull up, parking on the curb. I open the door to get out, and the Hound pushes me aside as it jumps out onto my lawn. Vithar's eyes go wide. He turns and runs inside the house before the rest of us exit the car. The Hound, however, stays in the yard and sniffs the black, charred earth in my front lawn.

(Magic used here. Wizards burned.)

“Yeah, that happened here,” I say.

(Master burned Wizards?) it asks, its tail wagging excitedly.

“No, they did it to themselves . . . At least I think?” The Hound cocks its head to the side, looking up at me. “Yeah, I don't get it either.”

I continue walking up to my porch and just before I step up, Vithar kicks open the front door and points a wand at the Hound.

“Back Beast!” he yells at it. Then his eyes take in the three of us standing near.

(Wizard threat?) it asks, and a rumbling growl issues from its chest.

“No, no,” I say. “Just . . . Jumpy. Wizard jumpy.”

The Hound and Vithar both chuff out a breath.

“You know what this is, right?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“And you're okay with it?”

“No.”

“So what are you doing with it?”

“Waiting.”

He sighs. “Can you give more than a one word answer?”

“Yes,” I say with a smile.

“Right,” he says, nodding his head, “That was my fault. What are you waiting for?”

“I'm going to go see someone who knows my dad. I have some questions for him, and I'm planning to give this thing back,” I say, gesturing toward the Hound. It is sitting next to me, and its head has been moving back and forth with the conversation. It hangs its head when I say I want to give it back. The gesture almost makes me feel bad. Almost.

“Good. Alright. Excellent.”

“Yeah, okay.” I step onto the porch, and Vithar steps aside. Everyone follows me inside, including the Hound. The house is dark, a stark contrast to the bright sun outside. I jump back when I see someone standing in my kitchen. My eyes adjust to the change, and the figure's long white braided beard and hard facial features come into focus.

“Eph?”

“Mike,” he says in greeting.

“What're you doin' here? Something going on at the shop?”

“Just got here a second ago.” He tips his head toward Vithar. “Here to train the boy,” he says.

Vithar clears his throat. “Man,” he corrects. “I'm not even in my teens anymore.” His voice cracks on the last word, ruining his declaration. He clears his throat again, but the damage has been done.

“Still much younger than I am, but sure, man.” He turns his attention to me. “Whatcha doin' there, Mike. Havin' a Hellhound as a pet now?”

(Smell old magic, Master.)

“Temporarily,” I say, then to the Hound, “I told you to stop calling me that.”

It huffs and moves to lay down by the couch.

“Mm,” Eph grunts in response. “Well, time to get at it Vi–” he squints and tilts his body to the side to see behind Vithar. “Cordelia?”

My mom walks out from behind Vithar and smiles. “Ephraim, how are you?”

The room is silent as my eyes flick between the two of them. Eph straightens himself up and clears his throat.

“I am well. What're you doin' here?” he asks.

“I'm here for my son,” she says. Eph looks at Vithar and creases his brow. Vithar points to himself and shakes his head left and right. Eph looks at me with a fully furrowed brow.

“You?” he points at me.

“Yes, Mikael is my son,” Mom says. “And my real name is Amara.”

I sigh and hang my head.