THE BOY WALKED along, kicking a can and whistling a lively tune. He'd lived down in the swamps all his life, and knew every twist and turn. This was Cheboygan and there was nothing new to see. But soon the boy's day would change.
As he neared a tree with a sunk-in spot, he stopped. Something furry lay partially hidden behind the tree. It couldn't be his lost sheepdog, Shep, because Shep was white and gray. This dog was a medium tannish-brown and black. The boy edged closer. As he walked around the tree, he saw it. It was a dead German shepherd with its throat cut. Scrawled on the tree was a red five-point, upside-down star and some other strange symbols. A little frightened but mostly excited, he dashed right home to tell his brothers and father.
"Billy! Charles! Daddy!" he shouted, running across the lawn and to the garage.
"What is it, Toby?" the boy's father asked.
Toby quickly explained what he had seen, and ran off, shouting for them to follow him. When they got to the tree, the four of them stared at the gruesome scene with silent horror. Finally, the father said, "Tobe, all of you, go home."
"Aw, Daddy--"
"Go home!"
The three boys started off towards home, sullenly kicking at the ground. The father sighed and looked at the dead dog. He went home. Then, picking up the phone, he slowly dialed a number.
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