"Let me push your swing," Reginald offered the little girl with bouncing curls. She studied him carefully before breaking into the most radiant smile he'd ever seen. The afternoon sunlight made it even more dazzling.
As a young boy, Reginald found himself completely captivated.
"Thanks."
Her voice had this sweet, musical quality that made Reginald grin back as he began pushing her swing.
Their peaceful moment shattered when a wild dog came charging straight at them.
The beast looked starved and desperate.
Reginald didn't hesitate—he grabbed the swing to stop it.
"Move! Now!" Reginald shouted at Phoebe, whose face had gone white with terror. "Go!"
Phoebe wavered, glancing between him and the approaching threat, then seized his hand to pull him along.
They scrambled down the hillside, but her tiny legs couldn't carry them fast enough. The dog would catch up—Reginald was certain of it.
Her attempt to save him warmed his heart, but they'd both die if they stayed together.
