Tossed into a bush is a large informational display with a photo of two gray wolves. I don’t see any fence or barrier or intact wall. And it dawns on me that grumpy wolves and tiny dogs might not make the best of pals, especially under these trying circumstances.

Just as I start to leave, a wolf on the sign seems to move. To blink.

Oh.

He isn’t part of the sign. He’s next to the sign.

It’s Kimu.

“Hey,” I say.

No answer.

Something tells me I should hightail it outa there. Something else is saying, Make no sudden moves.

I hate it when my brain disagrees with itself.

I split the difference, crouching meekly. Doing the whole submissive dog thing.

Kimu locks his gaze on me. I try not to make direct eye contact. Lotta animals find that threatening. But his eyes are mesmerizing. Glowing amber and way too smart.

He moves again.

Two paws appear.

Big paws. Nothing like my feeble, shrimpy feet.

These paws are the size of hamburger buns.

Hamburger buns with lethal claws attached.

mutt versus wolf

I wait for him to launch into his pounce. Maybe if I time my escape just right?

Yeah, sure. In a battle of Chihuahua mutt versus wolf, even I wouldn’t bet on the dog.

Do they break your neck before they eat you? That only seems fair.

My heart’s doing this crazy tap dance in my chest, and I wonder if he can hear it. I sneak a peek at him. Strangely, he just keeps staring at me.

Quickly I avert my gaze. Those eyes. Those chilling, dangerous eyes.

“It’s me. Bob,” I say.

Kimu says nothing. He’s panting hard. Maybe he’s disoriented, even hurt?

I try to speak again. My voice seems to be hiding somewhere deep in my throat.

Another try. “Um . . . Kimu?”

He blinks.

“Are you all right?”

No response.

“Anyone else hurt?” I ask.

This time he seems to hear me. “I don’t know.” His voice is a low whisper.

“Can I help?” I ask, really hoping the answer is no.

“Suzu. I can’t find her.”

“All right, then,” I say. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll take a look.”

I poke around a bit, careful not to get too close to Kimu. A sour smell pours off him like sweat off a human.

“I don’t . . . I don’t see her,” I say after a few minutes. “But I’m sure she’s fine. Just a little shook up, probably. Hiding somewhere.”

He doesn’t answer.

“I should go. I’m, um, looking for some friends,” I say. “Is there anything else I can do?”

He looks up at the ominous sky as if there’s an answer waiting there.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

gorilla world

I move on. I have to find my friends. Have to. But where am I?