No one corrected him.
“He is alone in hostile country,” Samuel continued. “Everyone at the door is an enemy. He does not know the rules anymore.”
Anya heard her father’s language in that sentence.
Hostile country.
Rules.
Enemy.
The farmer was still standing in boots dusted with feed meal, but something older and sharper had stepped forward behind his eyes.
“Let me try,” Samuel said.
Brenda almost said no quickly enough to save herself from thinking.
Then the dog slammed the chain against the concrete again, and the whole shelter answered with terrified barking.
Anya moved closer to Brenda.
“If we sedate him in this state, we may kill him,” she said.
Brenda closed her eyes for one second.
A shelter director learns to make decisions that leave bruises no one can see.
When she opened them, she looked at Samuel.
“If I let you in, Kevin stays at the door.”
