Shadow grew impatient. At night, he clawed the shed door, snarling when Elise tried to soothe him. She sat outside with a lantern light, whispering lullabies she once sang when he was small. Sometimes it worked. Other times, he struck the walls so hard she feared the neighbors would hear.
One evening, Elise forgot to fasten the last bolt. A storm rolled in, thunder booming. By morning, the shed stood open. Muddy paw prints led into the woods. Elise’s chest hollowed. She called frantically, whispering Shadow’s name, terrified someone else might follow the trail before she did.