Derek is holding Bootsie to his chest when the body goes over the fall. He didn’t expect that. Nor did Bootsie. The little dog wriggles, but he does not drop her.

The shallow route that Deirdre knew from one side to the other does not require swimming, but it is not dry. The large amount of rain that fell in the last few days has brought the water level in this pool up significantly. It is up over their knees as they carefully traverse the ledge.

It is deep enough that little Bootsie would have to swim. Derek expresses his concern for the little dog’s safety by carrying her instead of allowing her to get cold or possibly washed under the waterfall.

The two cannot see what becomes of the body until they get to the other side of the waterfall. Once there, the person who fell is not, in fact, deceased. Or, if they are, then their corpse is doing a fairly impressive job of swimming post-death.

Derek passes Bootsie to Deirdre. The young woman places the dog carefully on the ground. On this side of the pool, there is a steep embankment. It would be a challenge to climb it when dry, but right now it is damp and slick from all the rain. It saves everyone a lot of time to just place the dog at the top before trying anything.

The lawman strongly considers swimming out to help the struggling man. But then he recognizes who it is. And he decides he is making his way just fine without help. The sheriff is even still holding that evil bow while he swims, despite the handicap it must put him at.

The decision to avoid a second confrontation is unspoken and unanimous. Deirdre ignores the sheriff entirely, scrambling up the side of the muddy embankment with much difficulty. Derek follows her, grabbing at roots exposed by the divots her toes dug in to find purchase. The extra leverage helps him make it up the little ledge much more easily. The bag with the turnip thumps against his back as he climbs.

Ahead lies the much more arduous climb up the cliff.

But this is something that two people and a dog can do.

They choose to continue in silence. This side is ever so slightly less dangerous than its opposite. There are large stones, shaped very much like enormous turtles, which sit poised to continue their own upward journey. The rounded lumps of rock have crossed patterns of surface cracks that give the impression of a patchwork quilt or a turtle’s shell.

Those same cracks make the turtle rocks very easy to climb if you have thumbs.

Derek and Deirdre take turns lifting Bootsie from stone to stone. The little dog wags her tail and licks them every time she finds herself plucked from the earth and reseated in a new location. She is just happy to be there.

Their progress does not disturb the sheriff. The man is missing one boot and appears to have fallen immediately asleep upon crawling out of the water.

The climb up the cliff face takes a solid hour and more. Deirdre and Bootsie are the first to the top. The strain of the climb has Deirdre clutching at her side in pain with her face scrunched up like she has eaten a lemon. She looks down toward Derek and gives a little encouraging wave.

Bootsie, though, does not appear at all happy to have arrived atop the cliff. Her tail is stiff, pointed firmly between her legs, and she whimpers in such a small voice that it is hard to hear over the sound of the waterfall.

Derek peeks over the edge to see what has his hound so upset.

It is much easier to hear the horrible grinding snarl of the creature that stands on the opposite side of the river. Deirdre whips around to face it instead of the descent when the terrible noise rips across the wilderness.

Peeking over the edge of the cliff, Derek spots the monster. And it truly is a monster. It stands taller than a horse, with thin, nimble legs, a long, naked tail, and a long mane of hair that begins between its ears and covers it all the way to the base of its tail. The long, matte hairs are a match for the ones Deirdre found snagged on the tree trunk earlier. Based on its build, this horrible creature is a giant sight hound.

Derek tries not to draw its attention. The thing’s teeth are longer than his forearm. Its naked flesh gives off oily iridescence in the afternoon sunshine. Its long, textured hair eats the light and reflects next to nothing.

“It’s magic,” Deirdre whispers to him. “It cannot cross the river.” The reminder is useful.

Derek’s fear lessens somewhat. They are not personally at risk as long as it is over there and they are over here and the swiftly flowing river stays between them.

The creature continues to growl, prickling Derek’s skin with goosebumps in an automated response to which he has no control. Knowing he is not in immediate danger and knowing that this thing is dangerous and being terrified are two very different things.

It begins down the cliff, and Derek watches its ungainly movement. An arrow flies up from the ground far below and slams into its exposed neck.

Derek recognizes that fletching.

The monster ignores it, continuing its careful descent.

“Run, you fool!” Deidre shouts.

A second arrow flies upwards and catches the monster directly in its left eye. This is fortuitous, as this is the eye that would notice movement on the opposite side of the river where Deirdre and Derek are still located.

Derek hesitates, only barely. Deirdre does not.

There is a narrow stretch of bare rock on either side of the channel where the running water rushes past the turtle rocks. Deirdre hops from the top of her stone tortoise at the summit of the cliff and runs down this stretch. The single pebble still stuck in the crack in her soft-soled boot scratches the stone with each stride.

Derek takes a longer route. It is a lot easier to jump down from each turtle rock’s back than it was to climb up them. He may be exhausted and dreading the idea of climbing back up them again, but this is the only way forward.

When you see where the chain should attach, get it to eat that. It will do the rest for you.

Derek feels the old woman’s advice echo in his head as though it rang inside a bell. Overhead, Deirdre launches herself off the edge of the waterfall in a well-executed dive. He slides through the mud in a much less graceful manner, down the river’s embankment and back into the frigid water. He sloshes his way through the route with the hidden ledge as fast as he can with the water impeding his movement.

Overhead, Bootsie barks loudly. He tries not to let it distract him. While making his way through the water, he fishes the turnip out of his bag. The bag itself gets dropped and ignored.

He sees Deirdre pull her vile cousin to the shore by grabbing that foul bow he still holds onto.

The shore on this side of the waterfall’s pool is much more gentle. Derek dashes up the easy slope. If ever there was a dangerous dog who needs to be on a leash, it is this black and horrible thing.

With the turnip grasped firmly in his hand, he keeps to the monster’s blind side. It sniffs in his direction but otherwise ignores him. The monster stares at the opposite bank, where an entirely different scene unfolds.

Derek sees its teeth grind together as it snarls. The giant dog’s great black lips drip long ropes of saliva upon the ground. It lowers its head in a predator’s stance. Derk quietly takes this chance to sneak forward.

“You deserve this.”

He hears Deirdre’s voice clearly across the open water. He doesn’t have time to focus on that. Her voice sounds odd to him. It is like the distance is much greater than it really is.

“Yes,” the sheriff says, following a pregnant pause. “Yes, I deserve whatever you want to do.” His voice is also odd. Derek hears it crack.

The monster does not permit Derek to hear whatever is said next. It snarls loudly. Its blunt claws flex under the water as it stands just as far as the water remains unmoving.

Derek has been taking care of dogs for most of his life. Bootsie is far from the first hound he has worked with. He knows dogs. And this is just an enormous dog.

The gigantic dog opens its mouth to howl furiously at whatever transpired on the opposite bank of the pool. Derek takes this as his chance. He sprints the last few feet that remain between himself and its enormous muzzle.

Derek shoves the turnip between the horrible fangs. He has to jump to do it, but he manages the feat with brilliant success. The monster shuts its mouth in surprise. It is still blind on the side from which he approached.

When the enormous head turns in his direction, Derek grabs hold of the snout that’s almost as large as he is. He wraps his arms around it and holds it shut.

The beast looks at him with its remaining beady yellow eye. Ancient intelligence regards him with clear anger, its brow furrowed with rage. The eye shines with some inner light that even the afternoon sun is not bright enough to drown out.

Derek keeps his hold on the monster’s snout. He lifts his knee and wedges the creature’s chin between his knee and his armpit.

“Swallow it,” he commands. He uses his best dog training confident master voice.

The monster swallows the turnip whole.

And then the ground beneath it opens up to do the same to it.