Furioso spends his time chasing sticks, splashing through the shallow water, and shaking off torrents of spray in every direction.

  Felina, his feline partner in crime, watches from a sun-warmed rock, flicking her tail with bored amusement.

  Zoe, the four-year-old ball of energy, giggles uncontrollably as she splashes after Furioso, her tiny feet kicking up water. I can’t help but laugh too — it’s impossible not to when she’s having so much fun.

  Even Sam, still slowly adjusting after his escape, manages a reluctant smile from his spot on the riverbank.

  I chase Furioso as he dodges me with tail-wagging excitement. Zoe shrieks with delight, trying to grab onto his wet fur. Sam stays half-involved, skipping stones and pretending he’s above the madness. Felina, ever the queen, swats lazily at Furioso when he gets too close before going back to pretending we’re all beneath her. But in the end, we all get caught up in the chaos.

  Then Zoe finds Furioso’s one sinking toy and starts throwing it farther and deeper each time. He dives after it, triumphant every time — until, for the first time, he resurfaces without it.

  The three of us freeze, exchanging glances.

  Furioso dives again, his tail a frantic blur before he disappears beneath the water.

  To my surprise, Sam doesn’t hesitate. He yanks off his life vest and dives headfirst, cutting through the surface like he’s been waiting for an excuse to let loose.

  Zoe squeals and jumps after him, her legs kicking wildly like a hyperactive frog. I’m barely a second behind, the cold water rushing over me as I plunge in.

  The game evolves from playful splashing to a full-on competition, each of us racing to grab the toy before Furioso. The water churns with our efforts, bubbles swirling around us as we dodge each other and dart past curious fish that flicker by like living silver ribbons — the start of an impromptu treasure hunt.

  Zoe laughs so hard she forgets to swim for a second, bobbing up and giggling while Furioso paddles in confused circles, barking at us all. I’m laughing too, breathless and soaked, when I spot Sam beneath the water, swimming fast. His loose clothes whip and stream behind him, flaring out like a wind-tossed banner as he slices through the water with effortless speed.

  For a moment, everything slows. Sunlight filters through the water in golden beams, making the river seem deeper, wider, endless. Sam moves with infuriating ease, cutting through the current like it’s nothing.

  There’s something unsettling about it — a hum in the back of my mind, impossible to shake. It’s not fear or awe, just… wrong. Maybe it’s just adrenaline, or exhaustion... or the way the water distorts everything.

  Before I can chase the thought, Zoe’s scream of delight shatters the moment, and it’s gone — leaving nothing but a nagging itch where the feeling used to be.

  Sam bursts through the surface, the toy held triumphantly above his head. Furioso barks in outrage, and Zoe cheers even louder.

  I try to hold on to that odd, nagging feeling, but it slips away — or maybe I imagined it.

  Sam tugs at his soaked clothes, water dripping from his hair as he strides back to where his life vest waits on the shore. But I can’t shake the sense that I missed something. Something important.

  “Zoe, see that smoke over there? That’s where your parents are.” Sam gestures from his seat at the water’s edge, voice calm and steady.

  “It looks far away. We got here so fast.”

  “That’s because we came by river,” I reply, climbing onto the makeshift board tied to a log, Furioso hopping on with me.

  “We’ll head back soon,” Sam warns. “Don’t want lunch to be ready before we get there.” He grins, practically drooling at the thought, always the glutton.

  I lie back on the paddleboard, watching the smoke in the distance. It really is far. How long are we going to have to walk? Doesn’t look like a 20-minute stroll. Twenty minutes at what speed? Sam’s ‘leisurely pace’ is still pretty fast.

  How long would it take with Zoe’s little legs? Sam’s not used to kids — he hasn’t seen much of Zoe hiking on her own, because after 10 minutes, Wally would usually hoist her onto his back. I’m guessing this won’t be a 20-minute trip.

  Furioso shifts, sprawling across my lap, and I run my hand through his damp fur.

  “Furioso really likes you,” Zoe says, delighted by how cuddly he’s being.

  A stark contrast to the first time I saw him — back then, he was anything but cuddly.

  I was exhausted, stuck in the middle of the road, wrestling to free the car from thick mud under a relentless downpour.

  So our so-called rescue ended up being me, stuck dealing with Sam — and this massive, black beast that burst into the headlights out of nowhere, like a shadowy wolf dragged straight from the depths of hell, eyes burning and teeth bared, ready to rip me to shreds.

  “He doesn’t usually trust men that much…” Sam adds, pretending indifference, but I can hear the jealousy seeping into his voice.

  “Is he a feminist?” I shoot back with a crooked grin.

  “Furioso’s well-socialized, but he’s a bit territorial. He doesn’t curl up to strangers easily — especially not men. He probably doesn’t see you as a threat.”

  “I’m not a threat to him, and he knows it.”

  “Dogs are sensitive. They pick up on pheromones — that triggers their territorial instincts. Neutered dogs produce less pheromone, so the instinct fades.”

  “I’m not neutered,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

  Is this bastard really going to poke at me over this? Sam is really pushing it. He never misses a chance.

  He tilts his head, all smug amusement. “Didn’t say you were. Furioso’s neutered though,” he adds, voice dripping with mock innocence like the thought had only just occurred to him.

  Sam didn’t even have to say it. The second he started talking, I knew where this was going, and like an idiot, I walked right into it — defensive before he even got the chance to push.

  Now I’m the one looking ridiculous, bristling at a punch that never technically landed.

  Before I can reply, the cat interrupts by dropping a fish in front of him.

  “A Galaxias spp.,” Sam notes, like that’s supposed to mean something. He picks up the fish, heads to the river, pulls a knife from his ankle, and cleans it.

  Then he turns to me with a smug grin.

  “Furioso!”

  The dog launches into the water like his life depends on it — knocking me clean off the paddleboard.

  “Here,” Sam tosses half the fish to the dog while the cat casually munches the other half.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Sam lifts his gaze to mine, one eyebrow raised smugly, clearly savoring the sight of me drenched and sputtering.

  Zoe laughs more when she realizes Sam did it on purpose. What the hell did I do to deserve this much bullying?

  “Let’s go.” I haul myself out of the river, dragging the board behind me, biting my tongue to stop myself from starting a fight with Sam. We’ve still got a long walk to meet up with the others.

  “Zoe, drink some water before we go. It’s really hot,” Sam says, handing her a bottle.

  While she drinks, he unbuckles the dog’s life jacket and clips it to his own. He does the same with the cat’s, then walks over to me as I pull the paddleboard onto the shore.

  “I’ll carry the board.” He reaches out to take it from me, but I don’t let go.

  “I got it.”

  As soon as I say that, he clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he glares at me. But I don’t back down — I pull the board closer, and his nostrils flare in irritation.

  Then he huffs and spins on his heels, making the life jackets tied around his waist flare out like a skirt. Crossing his arms, he stomps off toward Zoe, sulking in silence.

  He’s so annoying and weird. Even when he’s mad, trying to provoke me, and acting ridiculous, he’s so over-the-top that instead of getting on my nerves, it actually makes me want to laugh. His childish tantrum is kind of cute in how absurd it is — he’s like a big, grumpy baby.

  What did he expect me to do? Just stroll along, hands-free, while he carries the cat, the backpack, the life jackets, the paddle, and the board? Sure, that would be easier for me, but damn, I’d feel like a jerk. And Ella and Wally would think the same when we got to the campsite.

  After Sam points out the way, Furioso is the first to charge ahead, leading the way down the narrow trail into the forest.

  His fast pace quickly takes its toll — Zoe asks to be carried just a few minutes into the hike, thanks to the hot, sticky air. And things only get worse once the trail opens up, leaving us exposed.

  The wind offers some relief, but the midday sun is brutal. Without thinking, I lift the board over my head for shade.

  “Uncle, share the shade with us too,” Zoe complains from Sam’s shoulders, looking at me and placing a hand over her head.

  She waves for me to get closer, which immediately makes Sam snap his head back, throwing me a deadly glare — a clear warning not to come near him.

  Because, if I move close enough to shade Zoe, that means I’ll be within five meters of him. And that? That is apparently unbearable.

  Before stepping closer, I shift my grip, holding the board closer to the middle — it’s easier to balance that way. If I held it more toward the back, there’d be more space in front, sure, but that would make it harder to control.

  But it’s not just about balance. I also can’t keep the board on my head — he’s the same height as me. If I keep it like this, I’ll end up knocking it against his head, and then he’ll really throw a fit.

  I raise my arm, trying to keep the board steady, but it’s heavy, and I’m holding it way off-center. My leverage is terrible. I nearly drop it. This thing is way too damn heavy.

  “Use your head,” Sam mutters.

  “I am using it—to indulge your whims.”

  “Use your head as leverage. Idiot. Tilt the board a little — it’ll reduce the shade, but you won’t have to use as much force.”

  “But you don’t want the shade to shrink.”

  “It’s the best cost-benefit strategy. Maximum distance, minimum effort. But hey, if you just want to tire yourself out and build arm strength, be my guest.”

  I lift the front of the board, shifting toward the center. Zoe watches me curiously, giggling as I make a strained face — trying to keep my balance and not drop the board, especially now that the ground is covered in what looks like thorny plants.

  Sam notices the shrinking shade and tenses the moment I step closer. His back goes rigid, and I swear I can see the hairs on his neck bristle before he shoots me another death glare.

  Wally thought he was just uncomfortable, but I don’t think that’s it. Then I think it was fear, but now I doubt it — it’s not terror. It’s more like... visceral disgust, like someone shrieking at the sight of a cockroach. Not fear. Just pure, instinctive revulsion at the idea of me touching him.

  “I’m just trying not to smack you in the head with the board — we’re about the same height,” I explain.

  He doesn’t reply, just turns back to the trail, sinking back into his usual brooding.

  “You’ve gotten so close to that board you couldn’t even let go — even after the ridiculous wipeout it gave you.”

  What is he even trying to do with this conversation? I can hear the smirk in his voice.

  “Good boy,” Sam murmurs to Furioso with pride, making the dog run over, tail wagging, eagerly waiting for head pats.

  Oh, hell no — I’m not letting that one slide.

  I drop the board right onto Sam’s head.

  He sticks his tongue out at me over his shoulder, making Zoe burst into laughter.

  “Do you smell that?” Sam asks, tilting his head back, trying to pick up a scent. Then he glances at Furioso, who is already sniffing the air. “We’re gonna get there just in time.”

  “I don’t smell anything,” Zoe says, sniffing dramatically.

  “Give it a few more meters — you will.”

  I inhale, catch nothing, and roll my eyes. “Oh, so now your sense of smell is better than a human’s?”

  “We already agreed I’m a Terminator. Gotta have enhanced sensors to track my prey.”

  “Then let’s attack lunch! I’m starving,” Zoe exclaims, miming a gun and pretending to shoot down the trail.

  “Not surprising, after all that swimming and running,” Sam remarks, tilting his head.

  “It was fun,” Zoe murmurs, grinning as she hugs his neck.

  Then, suddenly, she starts squirming, giggling uncontrollably. Sam’s fingers have found her sides, tickling her mercilessly.

  You’d never guess he supposedly doesn’t know how to deal with kids. Out of the four of us, I think he actually gets along best with Zoe. He’s friendly enough with Ella — they talk a lot, especially after realizing they have the same taste in books. With Wally, he’s polite in a quiet respectful way. And with me? Yeah, let’s not even go there.

  I should be happy she likes him so much. He’s good with her — better than I expected. But watching them laugh together, the way she clings to him like he’s known her forever, stirs something bitter in my chest. I’m her uncle. He’s just some guy who showed up out of nowhere, and now they’re acting like best friends. It’s stupid. Petty. But the knot in my throat doesn’t care.

  My arm is starting to go numb from holding the board up for so long, but I forget all about that the second the smell of food hits me. I can practically taste the juicy meat already, my mouth watering.

  Zoe asks to be put down, and just like me, everyone picks up the pace, drawn in by the irresistible, mouthwatering aroma.

  As soon as the vegetation thins out, Zoe bolts ahead, Furioso bounding happily at her side.

  “That was so much fun!” she cries, flinging herself into her mom’s arms. “You have to hear about it — Uncle climbed a rock and needed Furioso to save him!”

  “Wow. That’s the first thing you mention?”

  The betrayal stabs me right in the chest.

  “That was the funniest part,” Zoe shrugs, completely unapologetic.

  “That’s not how it happened!” I protest, indignation rising. “I was making sure you were okay. And the rock had an excellent vantage point.”

  “Then why’d you climb down like you were defusing a bomb?” She raises an eyebrow, her smirk practically a weapon.

  I straighten up, refusing to let a four-year-old rattle me. My actions were calculated. Totally reasonable. Not cowardly.

  “I wasn’t scared. It was about respecting nature,” I say, voice steady. “You know, being cautious around the strong current and all those slippery rocks.”

  “Sure,” Wally chimes in from the grill, flipping the meat with a grin. “Go on.”

  “Furioso was a hero! Uncle even kissed him after the rescue!” Zoe announces triumphantly.

  Shit. Just shut up.

  I point a finger at her, eyes narrowing. “I swear to God, I will throw you in that river.”

  Zoe just giggles, completely unfazed.

  Oh, she thinks I’m bluffing?

  I lunge before she can dart away, scooping her up like a sack of potatoes. She shrieks, laughing uncontrollably.

  “No! No, Uncle, wait — ”

  I spin around and march toward the river, holding her up like a captured trophy. “You brought this on yourself!”

  Her giggles explode into wild, breathless cackles as she kicks and squirms. “Mercy! Mercy!” she pleads between bursts of laughter.

  I narrow my eyes, my voice dropping into a low, villainous growl. “Mercy? Oh no, mercy died with my dignity back on that rock.”

  Before she can protest, I shift my grip, grabbing her wrists like an Olympic hammer thrower.

  “Wriggle all you want,” I say with an exaggerated sneer. “Your fate was sealed the moment you betrayed me.”

  “Uncle, no — ”

  I start spinning. Slowly at first, then faster, faster — Zoe stretches out with the force, her legs flying behind her like she’s a human helicopter. Her hair whips around, and the world blurs. Her squeals turn to gasping, breathless giggles.

  For one glorious second, I feel her tense — that half-second of genuine panic where she wonders if I’m actually insane enough to launch her into orbit.

  Then, just when she’s sure I’m going to let go, I yank her back in, catching her securely in my arms. She’s breathless, cheeks flushed, giggling so hard she can barely breathe.

  I smirk. “You got lucky.”

  Zoe wipes a tear from her cheek, still grinning. “You got lucky, Uncle. Seriously lucky.” She pauses, tilts her head, and smirks. “Next time? You’re the one going in the river.”