“Wolves are nocturnal, but Elvis is out during the day. He could be an abandoned dog.”
“Well, if he is a dog, he’s the wolfiest looking hound I’ve ever seen,” Finn said.
“Wolves and dogs can interbreed. I looked it up. Elvis could be a mix.”
“What? Like a dog-wolf? A dolf?”
“A wog.” Auggie gave Finn a peanut butter smile. “Grandpa Bill says it’s very rare for animals to do that, but one time in Morocco, he saw a cama. That’s a camel-llama blend.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by your cabin tomorrow. I bet Grandpa Bill has some stories from his Marine days,” Finn said.
Auggies eyes saucered, and his face grew pale. “No, uh, he’s been pretty sick. You shouldn’t come over. He needs to rest. I should get going.”
“All right. See ya, kid.” Finn waved him off.
“Bye.” Auggie took off like a shot.
Finn told himself it was more out of suspicion than concern, but whatever the reason, he followed Auggie down the hill to the main road. About a hundred yards past May’s cottage, the boy turned up a stone path. Finn could see the small cabin set back in a clearing. An overhead light illuminated a tidy porch. When Auggie disappeared through the front door, Finn turned to go. The screen door had slapped shut with a bang, reclaiming his attention. Finn watched as, one by one, the lights came on. Living room, kitchen, and finally what appeared to be a loft room on the second floor. Grandpa Bill must be a sound sleeper.
Something was up with that kid, and Finn wanted to know what it was.