Hannah stretched out her bad hand and placed it on Ghost’s wet muzzle. His panting breath hot on her palm. Her fingers brushed razor-sharp teeth. Hannah felt no fear. Not from Ghost. Never from Ghost. He was her dog, and she was his person. “Good boy, good boy.” Gently, she closed his jaws with her crooked fingers. “Evelyn’s a friend. You know that, boy. You’re worked up from protecting your people. I get it.” She stroked the top of his snout. Gradually, his growls subsided. “You did everything right.” Ghost’s tense, bunched muscles relaxed. His ears pricked as he responded to Hannah’s
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