He had been sleeping when the noise began. It was not new to him—his sister often destroyed things, especially his things. Elijah always hid those after she was done, hating to think that his mother might believe he had done such damage to toys he loved. The collie-boy’s senses were far more acute than his tan sister, but he had hid while she went on another rampage. Elvira scared him. Many times over she had snapped at his chubby haunch hard enough to draw blood. Even he could recognize that she was dangerous.
It was his mother’s voice that finally convinced him things were safe. Elijah crawled out from his hiding place, which was under the bed his mother used. He watched, wide-eyed, as his mother fought his sister for control of the toy. With a low whine, the boy pulled himself against his mother’s larger legs as a cat might do, sensing her distress. He understood. Elvira was mean and upset him and Odette often when their mother was not around.
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