Mists rose up in her vision, and formed themselves into shapes almost familiar, only to change into something altogether different. Some part of Amelia’s tumbling thoughts tried to remember, to fit the pieces together, to find the elusive pattern. But every time a picture began to emerge, something within her mind cried out in warning, and the darkness once again descended.
She remembered a little dog — Bruno. He was small, but full of life, her joy, her greatest delight. There had been a room, a bed, the little table with keepsakes, an impression of a framed picture, of someone she had once known. All of these were part of the vision, but only Bruno was distinct.
She remembered the moment it had all changed, the fear and anger congealing into something — something beyond understanding. It was all so unclear. Still she knew that Bruno had tried to defend her, to stand in the way of danger. And now he was changed, changed beyond recognition. Yet he remained her guardian, her protector, and nobody could reach her while he stood watch.
Out in the lonely deserted streets, a massive beast pricked up his ears. He had caught a stray thought, no more than a thread woven from a dream, but it was enough. In her way she was calling out to him, and he would let nothing disturb her slumber. With a low growl, he shifted upon his massive haunches, and with slow and inexorable force began to move to intercept the invaders.