It's a story about witches. No pointy-black-hat-flying-on-broom witches, and not glamorous twenty-something witches who do good deeds. These witches are ordinary. Sweatpants in the supermarket ordinary. They were chosen because of their everyday appearance. Yes, I said "chosen". They didn't set out to be witches. They thought it was a social event. Something fun they learned as a group. Like a Tupperware party. They learn some tricks, and the ones with real aptitude get taken away, separated from the herd, and are forced to do one last trick. They think it's going to be a big deal. I guess it is, but certainly not like they expect. They're told they're going to do something for runaway teens. Sounds noble, doesn't it? Nothing noble about what happened to those kids, good intentions or not.
One runaway and one witch-wannabe in a room. One spell later, and one of them is dead and the other changed forever. The dead one? The witch. Seems the amount of power used in the spell is too much for the caster to bear. The target of the spell, the runaway, is no longer human. No, not a monster. Not exactly. The teenage runaway is gone, and is replaced by a dog. Never the same breed, but never a big dog either. Never understood that part. There were some special things about the dogs, too. They always had a star-shaped patch of fur somewhere. Never understood that, either. One last thing about the dogs, other than being as smart as humans. Well, as smart as human runaways at least. The other thing that makes these dogs special is that they can astral project. When they do, they are no longer dogs, but human teenagers again.
Yeah, I know. It sounds like some lousy TV show or crappy movie. But I know this is all true...
I'm one of the dogs.