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BROWN!

This afternoon, Harper was a blur on her bicycle on the outskirts of Destiny City: dashing down sidewalks and actual bicycle lanes and occasionally cutting through a yard if there wasn't a fence or too many obstacles. Turns were taken at a pace she would not have dared on any other day, but this was an emergency, so adrenalin and necessity overwrote caution. The gamble had mostly paid off, with only a few small tumbles off the seat that, for a time, left her more running with the bike than riding on it. Luckily, all of this was going on during a time of day that didn't see many people idly roaming around, even in the summer, or else there may have been a great deal more ruckus.

However, it was quite unlucky as to why she was racing towards the animal shelter at all.

Wound in a bundle and clenched tightly in her hand, itself white-knuckled against the handlebar, was Brown's red leather leash and collar. Harper had honestly thought there was no harm in taking him nearer the city for a change of pace in his walk -- that was obviously a mistake. Not used to Brown being much more than a clingy homebody, it was all she could do to keep ahold of the leash when he suddenly bolted after a stray dog. He had quickly wiggled free of his old collar, and then he was gone and out of sight. Lost in a mottle of streets and neighborhoods full of who knows what.

This wasn't the barn, or her house near a bit of woods, where he could eventually wander back of his own accord hours later with nothing said. "When in Rome", Harper thought, "go to the shelter and pray they haven't found him in a mess or worse.".

Finally there -- in truth, it had only been an agonizing 15 minutes or so -- Harper barely locked her bike to the rack properly before she was through the front door, the leash and collar still securely in her hand.

Harper thanked the Powers that Be that there was someone actively tending the front desk: an auburn haired boy that looked a bit older than herself. He appeared competent, at least. Unfortunately, she became mildly aware of a terrible irony as she found herself a little too out of breath to actually say anything immediately. (If there had been time, she would have been irritated at this on top of everything else.)

Using the space between the door and the desk to slow down and take more measured breathes, she felt it was safe to hazard a sentence fragment or two.

"My dog... missing," Harper managed out. Another breath, then, "On a walk, over there, then a stray dog... he ran off." She wasn't sure this type of information would even be needed, or what would be helpful otherwise. One statement was settled on. "Yes, we need help."

Harper automatically accepted the water Chris offered, clinging to it with the same grip as the collar and leash were held in; she certainly did need it after blazing a two-wheeled trail of anxiousness all the way here. For a moment, she wanted to snap back and tell him off about seeing to comforts before finding Brown. Fortunately, she couldn't catch enough breath to do so before the rest of the information rolled in.

Her heart fell when he said that Brown hadn't been turned in already, however unlikely or impossible that may have been in the first place. She nodded at the offer to make a notice, and followed his motion toward the waiting area though she couldn't bring herself to sit. The authoritativeness was turning into the best comfort, like an assurance that this guy -- and therefor herself, too -- was doing everything possible.

Harper found herself opening the water bottle as she answered.

"His name is Brown. He's... brown," she said, suddenly embarrassed for the terrible name she and her brother had come up with. "Light brown," she added quickly, "A shorthair. He's some sort of mutt, but he mostly looks like a retriever. About 6 years old now." Harper paused to take a sip of water, sorting through the information rolling in her head. "He's a good dog. He's never done this before."

Harper brushed her fingers along the ridges of the old, seemingly sturdy collar when Chris asked about his escape; she could only nod to confirm his suspicions. It was still rather hard to believe, that Brown was there one minute and gone the next so quickly. She would have expected someone to pick him up and run off sooner than this.

A bit of a country girl yet, she was surprised to hear that the shelter could "tweet" about such things. It was rather hopeful to imagine a fleet of people all looking for her dog -- much more thrilling than endlessly putting up flyers on telephone poles. And all of it much better than her first course of action, which was to shake down everyone who passed by.

"Oh geez," Harper mumbled to herself after his next question, realizing she had never introduced herself. How many crazy pet owners came through here that he was so patient? What followed, though, actually brought something close to a smile to her face.

"Really, you could do that? I have a bike we can use!" Even if it was placating, it at least felt like she was doing something. In a flash, she was up and snatching away the clipboard and scribbling in information.

"Harper," she said, handing it over again, "My name's Harper. Luckily, my mother was better at naming than me and my brother."

Yes, time for action again!

"Ha, yeah, a car would probably be better," she agreed, now trying to imagine where she would have put this guy on her bicycle anyway. The handlebars? She had been cycling and busing for too long.

Harper knew the whole run-down about how she wasn't supposed to take rides from strangers, yaddayadda; but this was a special circumstance, wasn't it? He wasn't really a stranger at this point, anyway: he was Chris, the Animal Shelter Guy. This time around, when the adrenaline was pumping, it felt a little less desperate-helplessness and a little more Indiana Jones and the... Brown Rescuing. Or maybe one of those Tom Clancy novels, with the reconnaissance and such. It would all make for a grande adventure story if only she was sure it had a happy ending.

She had it all rationalized out by the time Chris had shown her to the car and she was clamoring in.

"He got away a few blocks from here, down the next street." She paused, everything managing to catch up in her mind, if just for a moment. "Thanks, by the way... I know I've probably been acting a little crazy about the whole thing, but you seem to understand."

Watching Chris answer the phone expectantly, Harper's heart leapt into her throat again, unsure if it was fluttering from anxiousness or eagerness. She had just finished convincing herself that this trek was going to be a positive, proactive rescue. What if it ended before it was truly underway, like the 'bad' option in one of those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books? Biting her lip, she was actually relieved that she could keep from yelling at the person on the other line from her seat. I mean, what if the other person wasn't even involved in the Brown-hunt? (Creatons.)

Then there was only a tide of relief.

The news was a delightful shock and the grin proved positively infectious. "He's okay; he's okay," Harper repeated to herself, and then, audibly, "Thank God." She was more than happy to save the daring, nerve-wracking rescues for between the pages of her books. Brown could curl up on her feet, his usual spot, while she read one tonight and everything.

"I'll... I'll wait here," she said, upon giving it some thought. Harper climbed out of the car and looped around the outside to Chris' side feeling lighter, despite the unused energies. The solace of knowing Brown was safe, with someone trustworthy, gave stay on her hitherto rather excitable decisions. "Since he's coming this way and all. It would be my luck that something else would happen if I tried to meet him there," she added covering up the grain of concern with a short laugh.

"I hadn't thought of any alternative before, really." She had fought off the urge to fidget by using the time to text her mother for a pickup. "But I am now. He definitely needs more than this," she said, disdainfully acknowledging the tattered collar again. He might look funny running around the field in what Harper considered a 'city-dog' harness, but it was certainly better than this.

Harper had called out with glee when Brown and his good Samaritan made their entrance in the shelter, tears finally threatening to break through the last emotional lock she had in place. All the things that could have been were shoved aside for the oblivious, furry face that was just as happy to see her. After he was thoroughly hugged (finding some gum in his fur in the process -- really classy, Brown), she stood and thanked the woman very gratefully. A buzz from her phone meant that her mother had arrived, too.

Brown didn't protest as he was scooped up, tail thumping away wildly as it almost always did. Harper turned back for a moment before leaving, though, and smiled.

"Thank you again, too, Chris. I know your dog's really lucky. We won't forget this!"