“Looks like you’ve been adopted,” Victoria said, laughing. “He’s got you trained already.”

We all watched him as he turned circles, chasing his tail, trying to bite it. He finally chomped down on the tail end and squealed, ran to my feet, and pressed himself against me, peering out into the grass as if some horrid enemy had bitten him.

He kept nuzzling my feet until I pretended to ignore him. He lifted his oversized front paws and batted them against my ankle, looking up, trying to meet my eyes. Suddenly a big yellow butterfly flew by over the grass off the road. He froze, pointing at it, picture perfect.

“Look,” I shouted, louder than I intended, sounding like a mother whose little boy just won a spelling bee.

“A mighty hunter,” Victoria said.

“Maybe I can teach him to hunt quail or rabbits,” Quon added.

“We’re not keeping him,” David said.

“I’m keeping him,” I said, picking him up and cradling him. End of discussion.

I hadn’t had a dog since I was a boy—Jupiter, my golden retriever, who went and died on me. Maybe that’s why I could never bring myself to get another one.

What was it about Jupiter that made me feel more comfortable with him than with most people? He made so few demands—was that it? Or was it that he saw me at my worst and still loved me? No person could ever do that, could they? I could yell at Jupiter, threaten him, send him into ice water to fetch a stick, and swat him when he devoured my lunch bag, and he’d look at me like I’d done him the biggest favor in the world just because I recognized his existence.

The little white dog looked at me Jupiter-like, pledging his undying loyalty.

“What are you going to call him?” Salama asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How about Jasper?” Malaiki asked.

I shook my head. “Frodo. His name is Frodo.”

We started walking again. After twenty minutes or so I picked up Frodo, whose little legs weren’t quite ready for the pace and distances we were going. He looked into my eyes gratefully.

Suddenly, Shad was there beside me, his ear hair rustling in the wind.

“Nick, I must tell you about the chasm.”

“Chasm?”

As much as I wanted information, I didn’t want to be one-on-one with the old man. I jogged ahead to catch the others. With Frodo’s arrival, I’d postponed my decision on when and how to leave the group. But I wasn’t about to let Shad work a spell on me. The old man came up behind me again, breathing heavily.

“The chasm … a vast abyss!” he called. “It separates roadwalkers from Charis, the City of Light.”

His tone was spooky enough to get me to glance out again over the valley.

“I don’t see a chasm!” I called back roughly.