Beowulf: Explosives Detection Dog - Plot & Excerpts
She lifted the plastic tub that held Beo’s gear, including bandages, medicine, food, treats, Kongs, etcetera, and set it in the back with her bag. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Timbrel eyed Jibril, who stood at the door. “I have to try.” “Just be … gentle.” She smiled. “When am I not?” “Most of the time,” Jibril teased as he joined her. “Remember, he is wounded. As much inside”—he thumbed his chest—“as here”—tapped his temple—“and here.” He rapped on his prosthesis. “I’ve been there.” “Yes, but he’s also not a quitter. And I’m not going to be shoved out of his life without a fight. He’s going to hear my side if it kills us both.” “What if it does, Timbrel?” Jibril’s amazing blue-green eyes twinkled at her. “What if you say things you regret, that sever the thin cord of hope you are clinging to?” Her heart thunked against his question. She did have a tendency to mouth off. For her defenses to come screaming to the surface and shove off any threat.
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