“A flash of movement caught her eye. She turned around to see Weston creeping around the back of Rosie’s ramshackle house. Rosie suddenly opened her door and the wild dogs ran out of the shack, growling and slinking low to the ground. They knew Weston’s smell.
He stepped back as the dogs approached. In his hand was a twisted rag wrapped around a large stick. He flicked his lighter under the rag until it blazed. The dogs stopped their pursuit, barking at the flames in front of them.”
