“I can understand you,” I rasped, irritation prickling beneath my skin.
He blinked, his lips parted, and his face started to turn a little pink. “Sorry, I just...”
“Three,” I said. “Twenty-four.”
His eyes were fastened to mine as he stared at me so hard it felt like he was seeing into my mind. Seeing all my shame and badness. Seeing how much of a monster I was.
I shouldn’t have told him my name. Now he’d know I was a hound, now he?—
“Three?” He tilted his head, his brows knitting together. “Twenty-four…? Three twenty-four what? Sorry, I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”
This was frustrating. I didn’t want to talk about names or ages, I wanted him to go bring me more apples or water or just leave so I could find a way out.
“My name,” I growled. “And age.”
He only looked even more confused. “Your name is…three?”
I glared at him.
“Like the number?”
I nodded once.
“No, your name can’t be a number,” he mumbled, frowning. I didn’t like that expression. I wanted him to smile again. “Can I ask you where you came from?”
Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell him. He’d just take me back there. I said nothing, watching him as he watched me.
“Okay,” he finally said when it was clear I wasn’t going to answer him. I shouldn’t have ever spoken in the first place. His gaze lowered to my muzzle, then the collar, then wandered back to mine. “Can I ask you why you’re wearing those…things?”
Had he never seen a hound before? Hayes told us they were everywhere. That everyone had hounds. That we should be grateful that Hayes and Hunter were our masters because there were some owners who weren’t as kind as them.
“I’m a bloodhound.”
“You’re a…what?”
“I’m a hound. We all wear these.”
Anger briefly flashed across his face, a muscle in his jaw jumping as his eyes hardened.
Ah. That was an expression I was more used to.
I kept my eyes locked on him, gripping the blanket and preparing to run.
“There are more of you? Like this?” The anger fled quickly, replaced with a sadness that didn’t make sense.
I tensed when he looked around the room, but he just moved to the chair in the corner and sat down heavily. He rubbed his hands down his face and muttered, “This is why I never leave. What a fucked up world.”
He was farther away from me now, so I relaxed a little.
“Okay, well, how about a new name that’s not a number? And my offer still stands, I can get those things off you if you want. They seem like they’re hurting you.”
A new name? What would I do with a name anyway? It didn’t matter. There was no one to call me by a name, and there never would be. And why did he care if these were hurting me or not? Was that another trick? No one cared about a hound’s comfort.
“Is there any particular name you’d want? Oh, you know what—” He pushed to his feet and walked over to the wooden structure full of things with words. “Here. I’ve got tons of books, you can pick from one of these if you need help.” He started pulling a few of the things off the shelf, then walked over to me.
He held them out as I just stared at them. When it was clear I wasn’t going to take them from him, he sighed and set them on the bed. “You can look through these if you want. Have you ever read them before?” He tapped one of them. “This one’s my favorite.”
It had a plain blue cover with words written on the front in white letters.
