Nite opened the door with a sigh and bowed her head slightly in greeting. "Good evening, Namanda. How can I be of assistance to you?"

Namanda Snells, an elderly village lady who was known for her quilt making abilities, anxiously rubbed her wrinkled hands together. "I'm so sorry to come 'round botherin' you at this ungodly hour, but I'm havin' some trouble with Mutt. She's been howlin' for the past hour and she's wakin' up all the neighbors."

Mutt was a sheepdog that belonged to her husband, Roland. It could be- and often was- debated just how well the dog could actually do her job. Around the village, she had a reputation for causing havoc, chaos, and property damage. The fact that she was now trying to serenade the village people was no surprise to Nite; even with her gift, she was incapable of turning Mutt into an obedient dog.

"I'd be glad to help you, but I don't know what I'll be able to do. Mutt is different than a lot of the dogs around here. But I'll do my best. Let me go grab some herbs to give her to make her sleep."

Stepping back inside to grab her cloak and the sleeping herbs, Nite stopped by Bickum's bedside. "I'm going to Namanda's to deal with Mutt. I'll be back in about an hour."

Bickum reached up slowly and grabbed her wrist with his frail fingers. "Please be careful. This is a good village, but there are still some dangerous people roaming the streets. Especially at this time of night."

The teen nodded and leaned over to give her father a quick peck on the forehead. "When have I ever not been careful, Bick?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"No," Nite giggled. She could see the gears in his brain turning as he clearly remembered all the dangerous things she had done in her short life. "I'm going now. Don't wait up for me."

"I will." His grip tightened before he released her.

She nodded goodbye and went back to the front door, where Namanda was still waiting for her. "Let's go."

The walk into town took five minutes. Nite and Bickum lived close enough to the village so that they could see the houses and stores clearly, but far enough away that they would be at a disadvantage if there was ever an emergency.

At this time of night, the village was still busy- but not in a good way. The children had all gone to sleep and the adults with their booze and ill manners had come out to play. The taverns were busy and lively, filled with men- and the occasional woman- of all types, many of which were happily drinking their money down the drain.

Namanda, a woman who clearly considered herself above that kind of company, curled her lip in disgust every time she passed someone, liquor in hand, staggering down the street.

She became so agitated that eventually she muttered, "Night has just fallen and them fools have already drunken themselves into a haze. How could an'one consider that a good way ta' spend they evening?"

Nite merely shrugged, deciding that now was not a good time to mention how she enjoyed the occasional visit to a rowdy tavern.

By the time the two were within a few blocks of the older woman's house, they could hear Mutt's howls as they pierced the night sky. For such a skinny dog, it was a wonder that a sound as loud as that could possibly be produced by her lungs.

Namanda sighed and balled her hand into a fist. "I keep tellin' that stupid husband a mine to get rid a that wretched dog, but he down right refuses to! I know the whole village hates her! Not ta' mention I have drag you over to our house every other week to deal with her!"

"Mutt is a good dog," Nite said sweetly, through gritted teeth. "I don't mind taking care of her occasionally."

She rolled her eyes. "Lyin' is a very bad quality, girl."

Nite smiled to herself. "Yes, ma'am."

They turned a corner and the Snells' hut came into view. In the yard, yelling and waving around torches and lanterns, was a very angry mob.

"Oh, dear gods," Namanda moaned. "Crisan, protect me."

When they saw the two women turn the corner, the cluster of villagers became even more agitated. It was clear that they were looking for a fight. Their raised voices threatened to rival Mutt's howls.

"Shut that dog up, Namanda!"

"If you don't, we will!"

"This nonsense has gone on long enough!"

"That wretched thing woke my baby up!"

"Shut up, Barbara! Your baby's just as noisy!"

Namanda did her best to quench the villagers' anger. "I've brought Nite to deal with her. She'll hush soon 'nuff and you can all go back to sleep."

Before anyone could protest, Nite stepped forward. "Listen to the woman. I'm going to deal with the dog's howling. I could've been done by now if all of you hadn't blocked my way! Now scram! Go back home and let me do my job."

Nite's forceful comments earned her glares from almost everyone in the group, but she ignored them. She held her ground, hands on her hips and a frown on her lips, until finally the rowdy crowd began to dissipate. Once they were finally all gone, she sighed. The howling was starting to give her a headache.

Namanda let her inside the house. In the middle of the hut was Mutt, sitting stubbornly on the floor and howling with all her might. Roland Snells was in the corner, covering his ears. Despite the fact that she was his dog, very rarely did he ever attempt to alter her behavior.

Nite walked up to the dog warily. Although almost every animal in the village seemed to love her, Mutt was a rare exception. Every time she treated the dog, Nite always seemed to end up with bite marks and bruises.

But this time was different. The beast didn't attack her or even growl at her. All she did was stop howling and instead turn its gaze to Nite.

The teen sat down in front of the dog, who came up to her chin. She placed both her hands on the dog's face and looked into its eyes. It was a trick she often did when dealing with animals. By looking into their eyes, she could interpret their emotions and sometimes understand what was ailing them. Excessive blinking and twitching eyeballs were only a few indicators she looked for.

When she looked into Mutt's eyes, all she could see was fear- pure, unfiltered panic. The dog was howling because it was panicked.

A chill made its way down her spine. The last time she had seen this much fear in a dog's eyes had been ten years ago. One of the village strays had shown up on her front porch. It too had been terrified and spent hours howling. Within two days of the incident, a horrible storm swept over the village, destroying dozens of houses and injuring many.

As much as she hated Mutt, Nite was not about to ignore this warning.

She rose quickly to her feet, trying to suppress her fear. The dog was silent, though it was trembling violently.

"What's wrong with her?" Roland asked anxiously, his eyes darting between Mutt and Nite.

Nite did her best to keep her voice calm, so as not to cause panic. "I- I just don't think she's feeling very well. If you don't mind, I'm going to give her some herbs to make her sleep."

"Please!" cried Mrs. Snell. "Do whatever it takes to keep her quiet!"

Taking the herbs out of her pocket, Nite looked at them. She only had enough with her to calm Mutt and numb her slightly, not fully knock her unconscious. But it would have to do.

Before Mutt could return to her old, vicious ways, Nite wrapped an arm around her neck and used the other arm to shove the leaves down her throat. Nite was grateful that the dog was in the weird, trance because it meant that she wasn't trying to attack her.

Mutt gagged when the bitter leaves went down. She snapped out of the daze and began trying to throw them up. Nite had to tightly hold her snout shut to prevent her from doing so. The dog thrashed about furiously. It seemed to have put aside its fear only to replace it with the usual anger.

After a few minutes of struggle, Mutt surrendered and swallowed the leaves. She made sure to growl viciously afterwards.

"The leaves will take effect in about twenty minutes," Nite told the Snells. She remained on the floor holding the dog's muzzle, because she feared that if she let go, she would be mauled.

"Is she going to keep barking?" Namanda asked, wringing her hands.

Nite looked into Mutt's eyes. Whatever had sent the dog into a panic was over; now it was just angry as usual. "I don't believe so, but if she keeps up the racket, then come get me again. As soon as I let go of Mutt's muzzle, I'm going to run from your house, so I'd better tell you goodbye now."

The Snells, who were both intimidated by their own dog, nodded in sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, Nite rose slowly. She kept a tight grip on Mutt. As soon as she was on her feet, she let go, turned on her heels, and ran straight out of the house. As expected, the dog followed.

Mutt chased Nite down the street, biting at her heels and barking wildly. However, after realizing that Nite was faster, she quickly gave up. The mangy dog abandoned the chase to go back to its home so it could continue terrorizing its owners.

Nite didn't stop running until she was out of the village and on the winding road back to her house. When she finally did slow down, she immediately regretted it. Now that her mind was no longer focused on escaping death, she had room in her brain to worry about Mutt's troubling and peculiar behavior. And worry she did.

By the time Nite got home, she had worked herself into a frenzy. She flung open the front door and rushed in, yelling, "Bickum! Bickum! Wake up!"

"Wha-?" the old man gurgled as his eyes flickered open. His arms flailed as he tried to sit up. "What's going on?"

"We have a problem!" She ran to his side and helped him sit up right.

He searched her eyes desperately. "What happened, child?"

Nite couldn't control herself and collapsed into his arms. She was shaking. "The dog was howling!"

Bickum seemed baffled by her almost incoherent cries, but wrapped his arms around her nonetheless. "What happened? I cannot understand you, Stump."

"The dog," she wailed, "was howling!"

"What does that mean?"

"Mutt was howling and when I looked into her eyes, oh gods, when I looked into her eyes, she was terrified!" She buried her head deeper into his chest. Nite hadn't acted this childish, this weak, in years.

Bickum finally began to catch onto what she was saying. "Do you mean-?"

"Yes!" Nite lifted her head and began shaking it vigorously. Tears threatened to flow from her eyes, but she fought to hold them in. "Something bad's going to happen! I know it! I know it!"

Bickum, a storyteller by heart, had raised Nite on tales of the fantastic- myths and legends from years and cultures past. A story he was fond of telling her was how dogs came to be. Eons ago, there was a breed of creatures with the gift of foresight. Those creatures eventually disappeared, but dogs- their descendants- still had traces of that unique ability. It was why they could sense when bad things were coming, like a deadly storm. Bickum always warned Nite to listen closely when dogs were trying to tell her something.

"Oh no." He held her tighter and she could feel the panic seeping into him as well. They both had terrible memories from that raging tempest all those years ago.

Nite tried to wipe away the tears, but for every one she brushed away, another one took its place. "What do you think is going to happen?" she sniveled pathetically.

"I do not know." He gently stroked her hair, an action that had served to calm her when she was younger. "I do not know, child."

"Is there going to be another storm?" When she said those words, she began to shake again. The only thoughts in her mind were flashbacks to the rain, to the thunder and lighting.

Bickum used a finger to lift her chin up. Looking her in the eyes, he said, with all sincerity, "It is not the season for storms. Do not worry."

"Well then, if it's not a storm, then it must be something just as bad! Oh gods, I can't imagine what it will be!"

"You are worrying too much, Stump. Whatever is going to happen, will not happen tonight. So, for now you must rest. Sleep makes everything seem better in the morning."

Nite didn't want to sleep; she wanted to stay up all night worrying until she gave herself a stomach ache. But when she looked at him, she could see the exhaustion in Bickum's face. She knew that he would stay up as long as she did, and she couldn't bring herself to do that to him.

"Fine," she finally sighed. "I'll go to bed." She wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Good."

Nite found that her legs refused to work, turning to liquid whenever she tried to put weight on them. Much to her embarrassment, she had to be assisted by Bickum in order to get back to her bed. Despite the fact that she was taller and heavier than him, he still did his best to help her.

When she finally got back to her bed, she collapsed. "I'm so scared, Bick," she whispered as she curled into a ball.

He stroked her hair lovingly. "I know, child. I know." The old man covered her up with her blanket, kissed her forehead, and said, "So am I."