Lion Head Mesa he sees your dreams, feasts on your screams

It might have trailed off, but Maegi caught the assertiveness in the dog's voice and gave him the barest of smiles. I couldn't tell you. . .what kind of help I need, she replied, giving a weak shrug. Slowly, she rose to a sphinx-like sitting position, though even then her chin still bobbed.

She looked at him carefully. Her vision was doubling upon itself every so often; Gucci would split into two, then four, then become one again.

Gucci. . . Maegi latched onto the name, letting it anchor her to reality. What keeps you here? Why have you not tried to go home? Her tone was gentle but curious. He didn't belong here. Neither, she thought, did she. And yet here they were, two twisted misfits in a band of regal wolves.

Outliers. And she admired him for his courage in the face of it all.