Buck was staring at the sky, his back to them all. Honey would have given a great deal to be able to see his expression.
“So he’s, what, like a hellhound, only he makes wind instead of fire?” Flora asked. “Oh, shut up Archie, you know what I mean.”
“Not wind.” Estelle lowered her voice dramatically. “Lightning.”
“But… wouldn’t that make him a lightninghound?” Claire ventured.
“Yeah, but thunderhound has a better ring to it,” Estelle said, undeterred by mere logic. “Anyway, it’s a pun. Because he’s part thunderbird and part hellhound, see?”
A pained expression flickered across Rufus’s face.
“Right. That’s not a pun, Estelle,” Beth agreed. “And anyway, it’s stupid.”
“And Archie’s right, it does sound kinda like farts,” Flora conceded. She abruptly brightened. “I’ve got it, guys! The perfect word!”
“I guess it can’t be worse than thunderhound,” Finley muttered. “What’s your suggestion, Flora?”
Flora made finger guns at Buck’s back. “Zapdog!”
Unseen by any of the kids, Honey jammed a knuckle into her mouth, biting down hard to stop the laugh from escaping. Buck had gone perfectly still, with the rigidity of a man who was slowly counting down from ten in his head.
“Um.” Finley cast a nervous glance at Buck and lowered his voice. “I don’t think he likes it.”
“Ilike it,” Archie assured Flora fervently.
“Which clearly means that my word is better,” Estelle said. She folded her arms, glaring at the other kids. “And it doesnotsound like farts.”
“Well, how about we put it to a vote?” Flora said reasonably. “All in favor of calling Buck a zapdog?”
“Um,” Claire said timidly, as Archie’s hand thrust into the air. “Maybe it would be better to… ask Buck?”
“Good point.” Flora turned round, raising her voice as though Buck might have somehow missed the entire conversation happening two feet behind him. “Buck! What doyoucall your animal?”
“Words I have no intention of teaching a bunch of kids,” Buck growled. He set off again, his stride rather more stiff-legged than before. “We’re wasting daylight. Keep up.”
The campers fell into line, trailing after him like ducklings. Honey, bringing up the rear, noticed Finley, Beth, and Estelle whispering together, eying Buck behind their hands. The group dropped behind the other kids until they were walking at Honey’s side.
“Honey,” Estelle said, in what she probably imagined was a covert whisper, “haveyouever seen Buck’s animal?”
“Yes, I have,” Honey replied, and was a little startled to find them all gazing at her in reverent awe. “Why, haven’t you?”
Finley shook his head. “We know he flies around the camp at night, but we’ve never been able to get a glimpse of his other form.”
“Not that we haven’t tried,” Estelle added. She cast a pointed glare at Beth. “And Iwouldhave been able to see him, ifsomeonehadn’t tattled to Zephyr.”
“You shouldn’t have been up on that roof,” Beth retorted. “And anyway, you wouldn’t have caught him. Glue doesn’t set that fast.”
“No sneaking out at night trying to spy on Buck,” Honey said firmly, having visions of the entire pack doing exactly that. “If he wants to show you his animal, he will. Have you tried asking him?”
Finley shook his head. “There didn’t seem to be any point. My dad said that Buck won’t let anyone see his animal. He won’t even talk about it.”
“Mydad,” Estelle put in, with the air of someone imparting a rare insight, “says that Buck has PMS.”
Honeyjustmanaged to turn her wheeze of laughter into a cough.
“I think,” she said, somewhat strangled, “you might mean PTSD, Estelle.”
Archie must have been eavesdropping, because his head swiveled round. “What’s that?”
