She paid no attention to the dog’s soft growling that turned suddenly into little yipping barks. It was Sharky’s way of enjoying the outing, Bonnie thought as she lay down comfortably amid the pine fragrance. The hushing trickle of the small waterfall was a magic of its own. It brought to her mind quiet Japanese gardens and Zen koans, the settling peace of the simple acknowledgments of nature—the sky she could see vaulting above the treetops, the delightful bird songs all about. Boston was another planet. She called pleasantly to Sharky. He came to her slowly. She wondered why his little body was trembling under her stroking fingers. He was panting as if he had been running hard. He continued to turn his head toward the path, growling again. Bonnie considered it was probably the dog’s asking why Elizabeth wasn’t with them. She kept stroking the soft coat, but the trembling did not stop. On the contrary, the woman felt the animal’s heart beat faster under her hand.

“What’s wrong, Sharky?” she asked casually. “Something bothering you?”

The dog’s answer was to startle her by leaping away. At the path, his body went rigid, his head up, his ears high, his nose forward, his left front leg lifted. He stopped growling, and it was then Bonnie Taylor heard the other, unfamiliar sound. It came out of the forest, a rustling susurration somehow inimical and threatening. She told herself quickly it was only a rustling of leaves, but there was no breeze and no motion as far as she could peer down the shadowed aisle outside the grove. Probably a snake, she decided. But not dangerous, or Elizabeth would have cautioned her. The woman turned calmly back to her blanket.

Sharky did not come when she called again. She saw his ears quivering, straining. She heard the sound once more, louder and clearer now. It was a hissing that sent sudden electric chills up her spine. She had known coon-­hissing back home in Mississippi, but this was not the same. And the dog was acting crazily. He had begun to hop about, as if the ground was hot. He was bobbing his head, yipping and whining in a way that would have been called hysterical in a human.

The sibilance was clearly coming closer. Bonnie jumped to her feet and hurried to collar Sharky. If there was some danger stirring such instinctual dread in the dog, she was not going to linger in the place. There might be animals in the woods Elizabeth had not thought to mention.