The snufflers seemed completely unconcerned by their escape. One was nosing at a clump of lavender moss. Another had rolled onto its back and was waving its stubby little legs in the air for no reason Kiera could determine. The third gave a pleased, tuba—like toot and bounded off toward the spooler habitat.
“Buck!” she called, looking around. “Buck, come here, boy!”
The big wolf came at once, trotting up the path with his ears pricked and his tail held high. The sight of him still made her feel better every single time. He was just so solid—so big and furry and calm and capable. Even when she was frustrated, looking at him somehow made things seem manageable.
Buck looked at her and gave a soft whuff as if to ask what was going on.
“I need your help,” she told him, pointing. “See those three little escape artists? I need you to round them up and herd them back toward their pen, all right? But gently—don’t scare them too much.”
Buck chuffed as though he understood every word—which honestly, at this point, Kiera was beginning to suspect he actually did–and took off at once, loping across the silver—threaded grass with that easy, powerful grace of his. The snufflers noticed him and gave startled little honking sounds. Then, predictably, they inflated their bellies to twice their normal size and began bouncing in three different directions.
“Oh, great, there they go,” Kiera muttered. “That always makes things easier.”
But Buck handled the situation beautifully.
Instead of chasing wildly, he circled around the bouncing creatures, cutting off their escape routes and nudging them back together with a series of low barks and strategic feints. Within moments, the three escaped snufflers were bouncing back toward the breached enclosure in one puffing, squeaking little cluster.
Kiera smiled despite herself. Despite how irritated she’d been at the situation, it was a pleasure watching the big wolf work. If she’d been on her own, she would have spent half an hour or more rounding up the escaped snufflers and would have ended up hot, sweaty, and aggravated. But for Buck, the task barely took five minutes.
She walked over to inspect the fence while Buck finished herding the snufflers inside. Sure enough, one whole wall of the enclosure had flickered out. The support posts were still standing, but the shimmering energy barrier between them was completely gone.
Kiera frowned and made a note on her wrist—screen.
Ask Commander Rarev to send someone to inspect fence grid again.
This was getting ridiculous. The sanctuary fences were strong and well—made—Monstrum made—but lately they seemed to be having more and more little outages. Not enough to cause a major disaster, thank God. So far it had never been more than one fence at a time. But even one fence going down at the wrong time could cause serious trouble, depending on what kind of animal got loose.
She was crouched beside the fence post, dictating one more note into her wrist—screen, when a shadow fell across her.
Kiera looked up—and immediately felt every muscle in her body tense.
It was Higgs.
The big alien rancher came strolling over the rise as if he owned the place, big hands hooked into the straps of his dirty purple overalls, his broad green chest bare under them. He was from Guckluck Three and looked, to Kiera’s eye, like somebody had taken a large bald man, dipped him in dill—pickle juice, and then left him out in the sun until he got sweaty.
The pickle resemblance was further supported by his skin, which was dark green and covered in tiny natural bumps that were supposed to be attractive among his people—or so he had once told her at length—but to Kiera they only made him look more like a Kosher Dill.
His bald head gleamed faintly in the pale purple sunlight and, when he turned to the side, she could see his potbelly which was pooching out the front of his overalls. He had small silver eyes set too close together in a fleshy face and was wearing what he no doubt imagined was a charming smile.
To Kiera, it looked more like a smirk.
She tried not to judge people solely on their apperance–she honestly did. But it wasn’t just appearance with Higgs…he also smelled.
Even from several feet away, she caught it—the unmistakable scent of body odor mixed with something weirdly familiar.
Like B.O. and sour cream and onion potato chips, she thought, suppressing a grimace. How in the world did he smell like that? There weren’t even any potato chips on Plo’nix.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Higgs drawled, sauntering closer.
Kiera straightened slowly, every instinct telling her to go straight back to her home-dome and lock the door. But Buck was still out in the meadow, turning the last stubborn snuffler back toward its pen, and she wasn’t about to leave without him.
So she braced herself instead.
“Morning, Higgs,” she said shortly.
“You’re looking mighty fine today, little lady.” His little silver eyes swept over her in a way that made her skin crawl.
Kiera tried not to make a face. She was wearing work clothes—a long—sleeved shirt and practical cargo pants tucked into her boots—but somehow, he still managed to make her feel as if she were standing there half—naked.
