Chapter 7
A Grudging Truce
Barnaby bravely approaches Rusty, explaining their plight. Rusty, surprisingly, agrees to let them pass if they can retrieve a lost squeaky toy for him.
My plush paws trembled as we crept closer. The air around the junkyard was thick with the smell of rust and something else… something wild and a little bit scary. Rusty, the junkyard dog, was a mountain of scruffy fur and suspicion. His bark, when he’d first seen us, had sent Slinky scrambling up a teetering stack of tires. Now, he lay sprawled near a heap of discarded metal, his scarred ear twitching, his eyes narrowed into slits. This was it. The moment of truth.
“I’ll go,” I whispered to Slinky, who was clinging to a rusty pipe, her tail a blur of nervous energy. “You stay here, ready to bolt if things go south.”
Slinky nodded, her tiny plastic eyes wide. “Be careful, Barnaby! He looks like he eats teddy bears for breakfast!”
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