It looked like Smitty would need help to cross the stream or go much further. If they survived, Sherman would need to find a hideaway for Smitty to rest while he went looking for his family. Smitty was smart. They'd find each other.

Every minute here was another minute farther from his family.

But he couldn't leave in the middle of the fight.

Eventually, the hog grew tired and backed off.

Smitty stood his ground as if unsure of what the hog had in mind until it turned and shuffled back into the brush.

He came to Sherman and lay down on the ground. The rain washed the dirt and blood off, revealing a few tears, but nothing as bad as Sherman had imagined.

“Come on, boy,” Sherman said. He knelt and patted him on the head. “You did great!”

Smitty looked up. He looked tired but showed a willingness to get up and go again.

“We’ll find a nice, dry place to rest a bit.”

There might be a barn or shed out here somewhere. They were getting out of the farm land, but there might be a hunting blind or shack.

Sherman got up and patted his knee, urging Smitty to stand up. If Smitty could walk, they’d be okay. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure what he could do. The creek was still rising, running much faster with all of the water rushing down. If Smitty couldn’t walk, he might drown.

“Come on, “ he said. “You can do it. Just stand up for me.”

Smitty looked at him and rolled his weight onto his legs. He struggled to raise himself up but collapsed back to the ground.

Sherman gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to leave Smitty here. The hog might come back, or something worse might come along.

If he was careful, he could use the backpack as a crude sling to take some of the weight off Smitty’s feet.

His sweater and Bop would get wet, but the sweater would dry, and Bop wouldn’t mind helping out Smitty. They were both part of his family, and family stuck together.

Smitty tried to stand again and made it, though he was wobbly. He took a short step and then another.

Sherman rubbed Smitty behind the ears and encouraged him to take a few more steps away from the creek.

With each step, Smitty seemed to gather his strength and grow more confident. He might not be up to another fight, but he could walk with Sherman.

They shambled along the swollen creek a ways. The rain was letting up a little. Instead of a constant pinging of tiny drops, it became a heavy fog that made everything damp.

Sherman wiped the water from his face. He hadn’t noticed it in the excitement.

The raincoat had kept him mostly dry. For that, he was grateful. He could get on the pad and contact Gramps if they found someplace to hole up for a bit. He didn’t know where his parents and the others had gone. He would worry about finding them later.

They eventually came to a crude shack set back from the creek. It was high enough that the creek couldn’t reach it, even if the harder rain returned. At least for a night or two, they’d have a dry place to rest. Once he made sure Smitty was comfortable, he’d head back down the creek to one of the farmhouses he’d seen earlier and try to find some food. He could put some in the backpack if he left everything with Smitty, though now, with the evening, he could wear the sweater to ward off any chill and make it one less item to get lost if something happened to Smitty while he was gone.

That left Bop to watch over Smitty, who had curled up in a corner on the old wooden floor.

The place wasn’t great, but at least they didn’t have the rain dripping on them here, and the floor was dry. Even though it was late spring, he needed the sweater and Smitty his coat of fur.

He pulled the raincoat over his head and let it drop near the door. Rivulets of water ran off into the cracks.

He shrugged off the backpack. He removed the pad and slipped it into the back of his pants. He didn’t want to leave it anywhere if there was a chance it might get lost.

He pulled Bop out and gently shook him to get the life back into him. Sherman placed him in the corner opposite Smitty to keep an eye on him.

Last, he pulled out the sweater and braced himself for the tingling of putting it on. The feeling always passed after a few seconds, but wearing the sweater was the easiest way to carry it.

That left the backpack empty for carrying food back. He’d eat what he could if he found anything. That would let him carry a day’s worth of food for them.

He kneeled beside Smitty and reassured him. He had been through a lot and had earned the rest.

“Stay here,” Sherman said. “I’ll be back with something to eat.”

Smitty thumped his tail a few times against the floor and seemed to smile.

Sherman stood back up and put the backpack and raincoat on.

Smitty started to get up.

“No, stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Sherman knelt again and scratched Smitty under the chin.

Keeping an eye on Smitty, he got up and backed to the door.

“I’ll be back.”

He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it.

Smitty still watched him but seemed to be settled in the corner.

Sherman slipped out.