The patter of a light drizzle woke him up, the soggy book on the porch floor, his fifth beer empty. Slicking his hair back, he grabbed the ruined book and went inside.

Andrew ate a tuna fish sandwich and finished the remaining PBR, watching a comedy because he really needed a laugh. All the while, he stole glances at Kate, Buttons sitting vigil beside her, wondering, if they couldn’t have some peace here, was there any hope for a normal future?

* * *

“Hrrrffff!”

Kate went from dead sleep to wired instantly.

“Buttons, sshhh!” she whispered. It was nighttime, the TV on low, Andrew sleeping beside her. He’d been through the ringer as much as she had and didn’t need Buttons waking him up.

The beagle was curled up on the chair, fast asleep.

Must be chasing cats in his sleep.

The steady trickle of rain plinked on the cottage roof. By the flickering light of the TV, she could see water pooled on the back deck. Andrew had left the kitchen windows open a crack, letting in the petrichor of the passing storm.

Petrichor.

It was one of Kate’s favorite words.

Kate had discovered it during one of her online searches, looking for the perfect way to describe the smell of rain. Little did she know, someone had already invented the strange-sounding word that fully encapsulated the scent of rain soaking into the earth. She liked to impress people with it whenever it rained.

“Hoffff.”

She sat up straighter in bed, glancing at Buttons. That hadn’t sounded like him. In fact, it sounded as if it were coming from the small window over the kitchen sink.

What is that?

It was a cross between an old man clearing his throat and an animal grunt.

Andrew had said he heard a moose outside one morning. The evidence had been all over their car.

Kate muted the TV, ear cocked toward the window, listening.

Below that window was the front porch. If something was that close that she could hear it from across the cottage, that meant it had to be standing on the porch. Tensing, she waited for the creak of the old boards as whatever was out there moved about.

Stillness.

Her heart whu-thumped, but there was no pain.

Stop getting yourself all wound up. It’s just an animal.

The porch was too narrow for a moose, or so she thought, but there was plenty of room for a bear. Were there bears out here? What about some big cat, like a mountain lion? She made a mental note to do some research on the local wildlife.

Not that it was helping her now.

If there was an animal, Buttons would be awake. He might be old and lazy, but he loved giving at least a half-hearted growl to critters great and small.

The beagle hadn’t moved a muscle.