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TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-TWO: Slumber Party
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TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-FOUR: Scrape
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... sat up to see a red ryeh-b’t at the foot of the bed, clinging to the comforter while her owner tried to pry her off. The room was bright with sunlight.
“Hi, you two.”
“I’m sorry!” Stuart said. “I was letting her play in front of the cottage, but I must have left the door slightly open. She slid it aside. I’ve got her. Sorry!”
Before Alden could say another word, Stuart rushed outside with his pet flapping in his arms. About thirty seconds later, the sound of a determined ...
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