Horizon Ridge you are free from the bonds that bound you

Like a double-blast -- the stranger's fur stands on end then his lip curls, revealing teeth choked by last night's meal and plaque -- Miranda understands. He stops, and his ears slide back. Easy, easy.

I wish you no harm.

Is it just him, or is the air always charged with tension? It seems he can't quite escape it. He wonders if there's really someone out there that lives their days languid and mollified, just the way a dalmation is sprawled, facing a fireplace of a dictator's chamber. Hope that makes two of us. The stranger still hasn't turned around to face him, and that's what makes him the most uneasy out of everything, that insistence at anonymity. What does he have to hide? The disquiet prickles at his eyes and membranes like an allergy.