Again she was quiet. The boss dog turned in his sleep and wriggled himself up on his back and slept that way, with all four paws in the air, legs flexed at the wrist, or whatever dogs called it, the paws hanging limp. The logs in the fireplace made a kind of sigh as they settled further, blending downward into the red mass of the coals.
”He’s gone, isn’t he,“ Jill said.
”Yes.“
”You made him stop, didn’t you?“
”He won’t frighten you anymore,“ I said.
She took another swallow of her drink. She studied the dogs. The afternoon was gone from the window and the night had arrived. The cabin was dark except for the firelight.
”He will frighten me forever,“ Jill said.
”Maybe not,“ I said.
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