The people who settled around Sweetwater in the Great Dry originally had settled on the western edge of the Green for over a century after the comet, before the newcomers drove them out into the dry. Hope was an outsider who had drifted into their country and was allowed to settle among them because there was a shortage of young women of her generation and she was considered "good stock" to add to their tribal gene pool. It hadn't hurt that she was attractive looking either. Before that, for a number of years, Hope had roamed the Green in her truck, working as a trader or a hauler of goods from one settlement to another. She liked what she did, but it was a lonely occupation. To get an inventory of goods, she often explored what remained of the old cities, looking for anything that might be worth something to someone out in the settlements. There was no currency; post-comet economies were systems of barter. Hope was very good at making trades that were advantageous to her; although, in that business, there were always times when one got skunked. Hope did not like the cities. They were dangerous places. You might get jumped by a gang of brigands or a gang of feral dogs. Once, she was attacked by a big cat, but managed to scare it off by discharging her gun. She had the scars on her back to prove it happened, too. One day, she heard a rustling close by. Uneasy, Hope eased her rifle into position. It was most likely some vermin, but still it was better to check it out, rather than ignore it. In this place, a girl couldn't be too careful. She moved down the street. There were no more sounds, although she thought she caught a glimpse of something white moving behind a pile of rubble. After a half hour of searching, she decided it was just her nerves. Hope trudged back toward her truck. She was about a hundred yards from the vehicle, when she heard something padding behind her. Hope whirled around, her weapon ready. About fifty feet behind her stood some kind of small terrier. It yelped at her and danced back several feet. Hope laughed at it and wondered how it had survived on its own. Most of the little dogs fell prey to the bigger dog packs or the big cats. The terrier stretched out on its stomach, its hind legs spread out behind it, and inch a couple of feet closer. It didn't whimper; it just stared up at her, clearly wanting assurance, but leery of coming closer. Hope squatted, rifle across her knees, and reached toward the little dog. "Come on, Puppy," she coaxed. The dog wriggled through the debris closer. Hope continued to encourage the dog, but the closer it got to her, the more nervous and scared it seemed to get. By the time it was within ten feet of her, the poor thing was trembling, its eyes pleading for acceptance and kindness. It was a female and her protruding ribs and vertebrae testified to the hard times she had endured. Hope had not moved the whole time. Her legs were on the verge of cramping, yet she forced herself to remain still. It was clear that any movement toward her would be interpreted as danger and the dog would run. Then there were those last slow inches, until the dog stretched toward her to lick her open palms. The dog carefully sniffed her arm. Hope moved it toward her. The dog shied away from her hand, then nervously allowed her to touch her back. Soon, Hope was scratching the dog�s back and the dog seemed to be enjoying it. Hope had to stand up and move. As she rose, the dog ran off a few yards, then stopped and studied Hope. �Come, Girl!� Hope called, turning on her heel to head back to the truck. The dog whined. �It�s okay. Come on,� she urged, before she turned to trudge off. The dog followed, keeping the same distance between them. TO BE CONTINUED