The sun was bleeding out on the horizon, its last traces of light dying by the second. Kant gazed through the open door at the twilight landscape and exhaled deeply. His shoulders seemed to droop, as though some of the life had gone out of him. “We have to go. I’ll keep my phone beside me. You do the same. Good luck, Margot.”

“Thank you,” she managed.

“Good luck,” Andrew echoed, and he briefly shook her hand on the way past.

She stayed in the doorway for a long moment, watching the two silhouettes as they descended the drive, passing through the open gateway. Both heads turned to look back at her a final time before disappearing behind a crop of trees. Margot raised a hand. They raised theirs in return. And then they were gone.

The lump in her throat ached painfully as she closed the door. Marsh, excited at movement, stood, his tail swishing furiously. Margot crouched beside him and buried her hands and face in the thick, golden fur. His whole body shook as he stomped in place, licking any exposed part of her face, delighted with the attention.

She let the warmth of his body and the sticky, hot breath flow over her, calming her, distracting her. Then she rocked back onto her heels so she could look Marsh in the face. His black nose repeatedly bumped into her cheek and chin as he tried to move closer, and despite herself, despite everything, Margot laughed.

“Okay.” She hugged Marsh once more, then stood on unsteady legs. “Okay. Stage one. Before the bells.”

Nora had said she needed to do whatever it took to feel in control. To eat a good meal. To shower. To distract herself.

She didn’t think a shower would do much to calm her. She wasn’t certain she would hear the bells if she was under the water, and although Kant had said they would give her plenty of warning, she didn’t like the idea of frantically trying to dry and dress herself while the dead were encroaching on her house.

But she could eat. That was easy enough.

Margot unclipped Marsh’s leash. He hung close to her side as she moved into the kitchen and looked through the cupboards.

Her parents didn’t seem to have any dog food. She was fairly sure they hadn’t owned a pet within the last few years. She took her poor, cracked phone out of her pocket and opened the browser, searching up what was safe to feed dogs, then set to work creating a dinner for the both of them.

Marsh was served on human dishware for that evening: a soup bowl for water and a dinner plate filled with boiled eggs, a slice of bread, cashews, and carefully cut apple pieces. It wasn’t something he could eat every night, but Margot figured, just for the one day, they could indulge.