The remaining dogs would surely be back on my trail. My first thought was to build a spike trap, but I didn’t have the means. A particular berry caught my eye. As I said before, I wasn’t an experienced woodsman, but one berry I knew without a doubt was poisonous. Another thing my grandfather taught me. A bright red berry he slapped out of my hand once when I tried to eat it: yew. An entire bush loaded with berries swayed in the breeze in front of me.
I pulled branches off of the bush and used my shirt as an improvised basket. I filled it until I could not fit anymore, then I turned and headed back to Russell. The dog lay there, still and lifeless. I felt a knot in my stomach, but I forced myself to push through. I knelt down next to the body and let the pile of yew fall next to it. Tryin
