Diablo tore free of the underbrush and rushed across our path. There was a small, orange splotch on his back.
“Get it off! Get it off!”
The black pit disappeared into the trees. I looked at Logan. “I’m sorry, was that a monkey riding my dog?” “It was. A baby tamarin. We need to get it back to the right area.” Logan frowned. “Diablo won’t eat it, will he?” “Diablo!” I let go of Logan’s hand to pursue my dog.