The dog was lying on the concrete when Drew entered the cellar. She jumped up and ran to his side, licking his bare hand and pawing at his suspenders. “Get down, dog,” he said, grabbing her leather collar. He lifted her over the steps by the neck, her long legs and bloodied paws scraping against the concrete steps. She yelped as he opened up the back door and threw her into the snow. “Animals sleep outdoors,” he yelled, slamming the door. A large icicle fell from the gutters of the roof shattering against the slanted stone sidewalk into shards of broken ice.

Hearing the noise from the back, Robin ran to the back door. “You leave that dog be, Drew Kimble. She done nothing wrong to you.”

“Animals stay outside,” he said. He grabbed his coat off the rack, picked up the splitting ax, and walked out back, slamming the door behind him.

When Justin walked out back, his Father was chopping logs. He raised the ax above his 6’ 9” frame, and brought it down on top of the icy wood, splitting it in two with one swing.