“Oh.” I pointed behind me, where Fluffy Jr. was trying (failing) to catch a butterfly. “This p-puppy is stalking me.” Drex did a double take. “Are you sure that’s a puppy? What’s wrong with its fur, and why is it so—lumpy?” God forbid someone be built a little different during an apocalypse. Everyone was a critic these days. We lived in dark times. “Don’t hurt his feelings,” I said. “He’s just...unique.”
