Elf Dog and Owl Head by M. T. Anderson

Author:M. T. Anderson [Anderson, M. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781536231663
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2023-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Elphinore knew now that she could not win. This wyrm was too old, too smart, too strong. Usually there would be a pack of twenty or so elf-hounds to attack and bring down a monster like this. Elphinore was only one.

But she had a duty. And it was worth giving up her life for this person she loved.

She looked into the old wyrm’s eyes. They reflected only hunger and malice.

Elphinore heard the human boy yell something to his owl-head friend. But she did not know what it meant and could not know it was a plan.

She prepared to strike.

She prepared to die.

All at once, Clay grabbed her collar from below—and Amos shoved the log off the rocks, off the waterfall.

Elphinore tumbled sideways into the water on top of Clay.

But more importantly, the wyrm, eyes wide with shock, plunged down the waterfall, her tail still wound around the falling log. She slammed into rocks. And then she hurtled into the dark abyss where the water poured all around her.

Up in the sun, Clay held on to the struggling dog. Both of them were soaked. “It’s okay,” he said to her. “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay. I got you.” She flung out her paws toward the shore.

Unsteadily, he walked over the slippery rocks to the edge of the river. He lifted the dog into Amos’s arms, and they set her down on dry land. Then Amos gave Clay a hand up.

The dog limped over to the waterfall and looked down. There was no sign of the wyrm in the tumult of waters.

As soon as Clay pulled himself out of the frigid river, he could feel the wounds in his side from the monster’s claws. He was bleeding badly through his shirt. His whole lower leg was now throbbing with pain from running on his twisted ankle.

Hobbling to sit down on a rock, Clay said, “Thanks, Amos.”

“It was your idea,” said Amos. “I am grateful you are not dead.”

“And this girl.” Clay reached out to scratch Elphinore’s head.

In his odd, formal voice, Amos said, “I vow she is a very good girl.” Elphinore was panting heavily and could not move her hind leg. She had drawn it up from the ground to protect it from more damage. “You are both badly wounded,” said Amos.

“Yeah. And I wrecked my dad’s metal detector. And they’ll never let me come out here again with scratches on me like this. They’ll think I was mauled by a bear.”

Amos was inspecting Elphinore’s leg and side. Blood was staining her milk-white fur and pooling with water on the rocks. Every time she moved, the blood welled up in the wounds. Her panting got quicker.

Amos said, “The dog is bleeding too badly for you to return to your home now. Her death is close.”

Clay felt his stomach tighten. “No,” he said. “She’s okay. She’ll be okay.” He put his hand on Elphinore’s head.

The owl child stared at him, unblinking, like the truth. He said, “She is bleeding to death, Brother Clay.

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