Creature by John Saul

what’s the problem?”
    Mark shrugged, and told her what had happened at the camera store on Monday afternoon. The scene had been repeated on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, as he’d presented himself at other shops. Today, Henry Spalding’s words had been repeated to him again, this time at the drugstore. “What am I going to do? I’m not going to make any of the teams, and I’m not going to be able to get a job, and Dad’s going to start riding me.”
    The two of them sat without speaking for a few minutes, as if the silence itself might provide a solution. Finally, Sharon shrugged. “I wish I knew what to tell you,” she said. “I’ll try to keep your father from pushing you too hard. But you know your father.” She gave Mark an affectionate pat on the back, then scrambled to her feet. “Come on. Supper’s almost ready.”
    But Mark shook his head. “I’m not very hungry,” he said, looking up at her. “Is it all right if I just skip dinner? Maybe I’ll take Chivas up into the hills.”
    Sharon considered it for a moment, then made up hermind. He’s almost sixteen, she told herself. He has to start working things through for himself. “Okay,” she agreed. “But just make sure you get back before dark. I don’t want you getting lost up there.”
    Mark grinned at her, and the change in his expression alone was enough to make Sharon certain she’d made the right decision. “I won’t. But even if I did, Chivas would get us back.”
    As Sharon started back to the kitchen where Kelly was already yelling that the steaks were going to burn, Mark and Chivas disappeared down the driveway.
       Mark wasn’t certain how long he’d been gone. In fact, he hadn’t really been paying too much attention to how they’d gotten here. With Chivas romping ahead of him, he’d walked north until he’d come to the edge of town, then followed the winding course of the river for a quarter of a mile to a small footbridge. Crossing the bridge, he’d found three paths leading in as many directions, and chosen the one that would take him uphill. Within twenty minutes they’d come to the edge of the valley and started up into the mountains.
    The tree-dotted meadowlands of the valley quickly gave way to thick stands of pines interspersed with groves of aspen. Chivas, his whole body quivering with pleasure at the strange aromas that filled his nostrils, kept bounding off into the woods, giving chase to the squirrels and birds, or anything else that moved. Mark himself kept to the trail, working ever higher. Then, as he came around a tight bend, he found himself standing at the top of a steep bluff that commanded a view of the entire valley. For some reason the crest of the bluff was clear of trees, but in several places the tall grass had been matted down where deer had apparently bedded for the night. Mark glanced around for Chivas, but the big dog was nowhere to be seen. The sun, still a little above the horizon, felt warm after the deep shade of the woods, so hedropped down onto one of the deer beds and gazed out over the valley.
    A few minutes later he stretched out on his back and let his eyes close. Just for a few seconds …
    It was with a start that he realized the sun had dropped below the horizon. Chivas, a low growl rumbling in his throat, was standing next to Mark, his body trembling as he gazed off into the distance, one forepaw raised slightly off the ground, his tail dropping in a slight curve behind him, every muscle in his body tense.
    Mark shook the sleep out of his head, then got to his knees. Squinting in the fading daylight, he followed Chivas’s steady gaze but could see nothing.
    Still, something had alerted the dog, and jarred Mark himself out of his light sleep.
    But what?
    And then he heard it.
    It was a low, vaguely wailing sound, and when it first drifted up to him out of the valley, he wasn’t sure he’d heard it at all. But then, as he strained his ears and Chivas’s growl grew