The puppy woke beneath a sky he had never seen before.

There had been a road.

A horn.

Someone shouting.

And then—

Nothing.

Now there was grass beneath his paws.

He stood slowly.

Nothing hurt.

That was strange.

His back leg had hurt earlier. He remembered squeezing beneath the fence, pushing dirt with his nose and scratching furiously with his paws. He had nearly gotten stuck.

But he had made it.

He had been very proud of himself.

His boy had disappeared that morning.

Every morning, his boy disappeared through the front door carrying the same blue backpack. And every morning, the puppy waited beside the window until he came back.

Usually waiting was all right.

But today it hadn’t been.

Today the house had felt too quiet.

So the puppy had decided to find him.

Now he couldn’t remember whether he had.

He sniffed the air.

There were thousands of smells.

Grass. Trees. Water. Flowers.

And animals.

So many animals.

Dogs.

Cats.

Birds.

Horses.

Rabbits.

Scents he knew and hundreds he didn’t.

But not the one he wanted.

The puppy whimpered.

He turned in a circle.

Then another.

His tail tucked beneath him.

“Ben?”

The word wasn’t really a word when he said it. It was a little bark followed by a whine.

But he knew what it meant.

Where is Ben?

Something moved between the trees.

The puppy backed away.

A figure stepped into the clearing.

It was tall.

Much taller than Ben.

Much taller than Ben’s father.

A dark cloak hung from its shoulders, old and frayed around the edges. One bony hand held a wooden staff from which an ancient lantern glowed with soft golden light.

The other hand was empty.

The puppy saw the face beneath the hood.

There was no skin.

No eyes.

No smile.

Only a skull.

The puppy yelped and scrambled backward.

The figure stopped.

It didn’t come any closer.

“It’s all right,” the stranger said.

The puppy growled.

It wasn’t a particularly convincing growl.

The stranger lowered himself slowly onto the grass.

“I know,” he said.

The puppy stared at him.

“You don’t know where you are.”

The puppy’s ears lifted slightly.

“And you’re looking for someone.”

At that, the puppy barked.

The stranger nodded.

“I thought so.”

For a long while, neither moved.

Then something small emerged from beneath the stranger’s cloak.

A gray cat.

It stretched, walked casually across the grass and rubbed against one of the stranger’s skeletal hands.

The puppy stopped growling.

Another animal appeared.

An old dog with a white muzzle.

Then a rabbit.

Two more cats.

A tiny bird landed on the stranger’s shoulder.

None of them seemed frightened.

The puppy took one cautious step forward.

Then another.

The old dog approached first.

They sniffed noses.

The puppy’s tail moved once.

Just once.

The stranger held out his hand.

The puppy sniffed the strange white fingers.

They smelled like woodsmoke.

Grass.

Rain.

And hundreds upon hundreds of animals.

The puppy licked them.

The Keeper scratched gently beneath his chin.

“There you are.”

The puppy sat.

For the first time since waking, he wasn’t quite as afraid.

But then he remembered.

He jumped up.

“Ben!”

Again, it came out as a bark.

The Keeper seemed to understand anyway.

“Your friend?”

The puppy wagged furiously.

“Is his name Ben?”

The puppy barked again.

The Keeper looked toward the distant bridge.

It stretched between two hills, ancient stones disappearing into warm golden mist. Faint colors arced through the sky above it.

Animals wandered nearby.

Some crossed.

Some didn’t.

Some simply sat and watched the horizon.

The Keeper looked back at the puppy.

“Ben isn’t here.”

The puppy’s tail stopped.

He stared at the Keeper.

Then he looked behind him.

Perhaps Ben was somewhere in the trees.

The puppy ran.

He searched behind rocks.

Under bushes.

Around trees.

He raced toward every distant person he saw.

None of them were Ben.

Eventually he returned to the Keeper.

His ears drooped.

The Keeper sat beside him.

“He didn’t leave you.”

The puppy looked up.

“You left the yard looking for him.”

The puppy lowered his head.

“He was at school.”

That word he knew.

School.

Ben went there every morning.

The puppy stared toward the bridge.

“He came home today.”

The puppy’s head snapped around.

His tail began wagging.

“He looked for you.”

The puppy stood.

“He cried for you.”

The tail stopped again.

The Keeper rested his hand gently upon the puppy’s head.

“He loved you very much.”

The puppy pressed himself against the Keeper’s cloak.

“Can I tell you something difficult?”

The puppy didn’t understand the words.

But he understood the voice.

He stayed.

“Ben isn’t coming here today.”

The puppy looked toward the bridge.

“Or tomorrow.”

The Keeper looked into the golden distance.

“Hopefully not for a very, very long time.”

The puppy whined.

“I know.”

The Keeper scratched behind his ear.

“Waiting is hard.”

The puppy rested his chin upon the Keeper’s knee.

“But you won’t wait alone.”

The old dog settled beside him.

The gray cat curled against his back.

The rabbit stretched out nearby.

Above them, the little bird began to sing.

The puppy’s eyes grew heavy.

He had spent the whole day trying to find Ben.

He was tired.

Before he fell asleep, the Keeper whispered something.

“You loved him in life.”

The lantern flickered.

“So I’ll keep you in spirit.”

The puppy closed his eyes.

⸻

Years passed differently beside the bridge.

The puppy grew no older.

He learned every path through the Keeper’s valley.

He chased butterflies that never seemed to tire.

He learned which cats enjoyed being chased and which absolutely did not.

He greeted frightened newcomers.

Eventually, he became particularly good at that.

Whenever another animal woke beneath the unfamiliar sky, confused and trembling, sometimes the first thing they saw wasn’t the skeletal figure with the lantern.

Sometimes it was a puppy.

Tail wagging.

Head tilted.

Ready to play.

And every so often, the puppy returned to the hill overlooking the bridge.

The Keeper always knew what he was doing.

“Not today,” he would say gently.

The puppy would sit beside him.

Years became decades.

Still the puppy waited.

Then, one quiet morning, the Keeper’s lantern changed.

The golden flame suddenly burned brighter.

The Keeper stopped walking.

The puppy noticed.

His ears rose.

The Keeper looked toward the bridge.

A figure had appeared in the mist.

An old man.

He stood uncertainly beneath the archway, looking around as though trying to understand where he was.

The puppy stared.

The man had white hair.

His shoulders were stooped.

His face was lined by a lifetime the puppy had never seen.

The puppy didn’t recognize any of that.

But then the man spoke.

“Where am I?”

The puppy froze.

That voice.

Older.

Deeper.

But underneath all those years—

that voice.

His tail began to move.

The old man looked toward him.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then the man’s eyes widened.

“No.”

The puppy took one step.

The old man’s hands began trembling.

“It can’t be.”

Another step.

“Buddy?”

The puppy ran.

Across the meadow.

Past the flowers.

Past the animals who had become his family.

Straight toward the bridge.

The old man dropped to his knees.

And suddenly he wasn’t an old man anymore.

Not to the puppy.

He was Ben.

His Ben.

The boy with the blue backpack.

The boy who threw the ball.

The boy who sneaked food beneath the table.

The boy he’d gone looking for so very long ago.

Buddy crashed into him.

Ben wrapped both arms around the puppy.

And somewhere between laughter and tears, seventy years disappeared.

“I looked everywhere for you.”

Buddy covered his face with kisses.

“I’m sorry,” Ben whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

But Buddy had nothing to forgive.

His friend had come back.

That was all that mattered.

Across the meadow, the Keeper watched.

He didn’t interrupt.

He never did.

After a while, Ben looked up.

Their eyes met across the distance.

Ben seemed to understand.

He placed one hand over his heart.

Then he nodded.

Thank you.

The Keeper tipped his head.

You’re welcome.

Ben stood.

Buddy stayed pressed against his leg.

Together, they turned toward the light beyond the bridge.

The Keeper watched until they disappeared.

Then he looked down.

A frightened little kitten had just appeared in the grass beside him.

It was trembling.

The Keeper lowered himself slowly.

He held out one skeletal hand.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“I know you don’t understand.”

The kitten stared at him.

“And I know you’re looking for someone.”

The lantern glowed warmly between them.

The Keeper waited.

He was very good at waiting.