The other seemed somewhat embarrassed at the condition of the house, but Wayne would pretend to ignore that as long as it persisted. After helping the man onto solid ground, he listened to his suggestion and nodded. “It ain’t pretty, but you’re right—probably some salvageable wood.” He spoke clearly, having missed the hesitance in the other’s tone, since that was what he had been used to.
He stepped around the brown wolfdog, putting his weight on some planks and withdrawing at their creak of protest. Whenever he found something stronger, he grabbed it and yanked; nails bent or flew, and he grunted at the effort. Throwing the good wood down in a pile, he managed to open the door, which dangled on a rusty hinge. “Door itself looks good,” he thought out loud. “Could make a table out of it or somethin’.” He glanced back at Hadley. “Should we go inside? Might get swallowed, but there could be somethin’ useful in there.”
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