My favorite smells grew stronger. Pine needles, ocean air, cut grass, beef jerky, peanut butter, bacon, fried chicken. I marched up the final tunnel, drawn like a wasp to the radiant glow that waited at its end. Closer. Brighter.
“You’re here, Thirteen. Go ahead.”
I dashed out of the tunnel and into the light, the freshest breeze filling my jowls. Squinting through the sunshine I ran, the grass a cushion beneath my paws. I left my feet and flew…
— Under Angels the novel