Nameless twitched his ears as far forward as they could go and started to run past the retriever, but another snarl and a snap sent him scuffling backwards. He was large enough that he probably could have subdued the other dog with a well-placed snap of his jaws, but for whatever reason he wouldn't.

"Manners," I said, getting close enough to nudge the retriever with my knee. He snapped again, more out of instinct than any real desire to hurt me, then looked abashed and sidled past, out into the street. With a last backward look and his hackles still raised, he sauntered off.

I crouched and held out my hand, palm down, and Nameless nosed it briefly before allowing me to rub the soft fuzz on the crown of his head.

"Not very popular, are you?" I asked. He butted against my fingers. "Can't win 'em all, I guess."

He followed me back to Dusk Books after that. We passed three more dogs on the way, and each time they barked at him from their yards or crossed the street to avoid us both.

"Hi!" the boy called breathlessly from my front steps, when we returned. "Hi, Nameless!"

"Afternoon," I said. "It's cold out to be stalking me."

"I just wanted some comic books," the boy answered, as I opened the door.

"You could have gone inside, in the warm."

"You weren't here."

"As if that's ever stopped anyone," I answered, picking up a slip of paper on the counter.

Christopher,

Needed change for a customer.

Left ten dollars, took all your ones

and most of your quarters.

Carmen

"Poetry," I added, pointing it out to the boy. He grinned and went to the comic-book rack. Nameless nudged him in the small of the back, and he obediently stroked the dog's shoulders as he examined the rack. "Maybe you should adopt him," I said.

"He's not the kind of dog you adopt," the boy replied, without turning around. "He does the adopting."

"He seems well-kept."

"Should be. They're always brushing him in the hardware store. He gets by all right."

"Dogs are pack animals, though. Strange to see one without a pack," I said. Before he could reply, one of his friends put his head in and yelled for him to hurry up. He sighed, laid a stack of comics on the counter, and paid with the last of his credit from the wood-delivery. Nameless gave me a look, ambled past the counter, and followed the boy out the door.

***

It was another few days before Lucas came into the village again, snowshoes on his back and carrying a bag of masks over his other shoulder. We ran into each other, me coming out of the hardware store and him idling down the street.

"Looking for somewhere to sell them," he said, lifting the top flap of the bag to show me the jumble of faces underneath. I saw two pale Noh masks in among the gaudy colors. "My shelves were filling up. Time to cull the collection again."

"Would you like me to sell some?" I asked, lifting out a fanciful papier-mâché mask with a silver cross-hatch design on it.

"If you'd like," he answered shyly. "You don't have to."

"They'll look good in the shop," I replied. "Come walk with me – haven't seen much of you lately. Getting along all right?"

"More or less," he answered.

"Lonely, out at The Pines?"

"You know me, I don't get that lonely. Just..." he rubbed his chin thoughtfully as we walked. "I'm trying to see things differently, and it's – well, it's not what I expected."

"Surprised you see much of anything, out there."

"It's not so bad," he said with a smile. "I keep busy. You remember the students I had in December? They've stayed on."

"How does the boy like that?"

"He's not happy about it, but he isn't throwing fits. Even if they're both girls."

I laughed. "Give him a few years."

"He's already older than he ought to be. I think it bothers him. The teachers don't know what to do with him anymore."

I glanced sidelong at him. His head was bowed, eyes fixed on the ground as they so often were.

"You must know what it's like," I said.

"Being young and smart? Sure," he said.

"Bet your teachers didn't know what to do with you either."

"They were fine," he answered, still looking down. "My parents didn't. They used to think I was slinking off to smoke cigarettes and have sex."

"Were you?"

He glanced up at me and smiled – small but mischievous. "No. I was making masks in the school art room. I'm not sure which they would have preferred. The masks creep them out."

"Want some lunch?" I asked, stopping at the corner before we could cross the street to my shop.