PA 3.5: End of a Tail

Chapter XVI Part I

Cujo knew he was getting close to the cellar when he heard the loud sound of someone battering against a metal door. He sighed, exasperated, and took off his glasses, stowing them in his pants pocket before starting to speed walk towards the sound. It didn't take long for the stonework path to break into slivers of itself, shifting underneath the dog's feet.

The thing was as wretched as the rest of his surroundings- the marred, bare trees matched the doors perfectly, much as the broken stone trail and dying grass did as well. The whole place was horrible, and it felt like the air was poisoning him each time he took a breath in through his snout. The doors themselves were cracked from the center outwards. A magical sigil had been painted with chalk from this side, but otherwise it was unremarkable. When he approached the entrance, the chalk spontaneously began to flare with a dim light as banging reverberated from the other side of the metal.

Cujo looked to the floor, ashamed. "Dell?" he said.

"C--o?" He could barely hear her from inside, and with caution, approached the door so that they could understand one another with greater clarity.

"Dell," he said again. "I'm... I'm not proud of you." His voice was low, almost reduced to a whine, and it showed evident disappointment with its tone.

The chalk began to glow continuously, as it sounded like Dell was placing her pointed ears as close as she could to the sealed door. "W-What!?" she demanded, seemingly in disbelief.

Cujo held the bridge of his muzzle and rubbed it lightly. He didn't know how to properly speak to her, not after what she had done, but he knew he had to regardless.

"I-I'm sorry, but please, you have to let me out! Mitt is going to-"

"Dell," he said, trying to interrupt her, but the muffled word couldn't be heard over her exasperated explanation.

"-me. I think Patches is going after a dog they like, but, they said they'd come and-"

"Dell!" he sternly spoke, still failing to get her attention.

"-sorry, I'm so sorry if I messed up, but I can explain. I can help you guys find him, and then I can tell you what happened at school, and you can believe me! Coco isn't the cat she says she is. She's not! Please, just let me out and we can-"

"Jake!"

There was a half-gasp as Dell stopped speaking, seemingly shocked at the mention of her given name. "I've told you. Please don't call me that." He could practically feel her crossing her arms in frustration, as her tone became spiteful in a split-second.

"I don't know why you did what you did, if you genuinely think Coco did any of that or-" Cujo said, taking a step back and leaning on the side of the doorway in lieu of having an actual seat.

Dell tried interrupting him. "You don't understand! I've-"

"JAKE." He yelled, furrowing his brow in anger. No later did a gust of wind pick up, making his ears and maroon bandana flop lightly about in the autumn weather.

Dell's tone became more sombre, becoming a tiny sound amongst the rough winds. "Why are you calling me that?"

"I'm disappointed," Cujo said plainly, crossing his arms for warmth. "I've known you since day one, and I can't believe you've pulled the wool over my eyes like this."

"What?! No- I wanted to tell you from the start, but I was just worried-"

"Worried I'd get angry at you? Well, it happened anyways. Because of you, Patches crippled some poor dog." He huffed. "So are you happy? Is that what you wanted?"

He could hear Dell backing off from the door. "No- I- I d-didn't mean-"

"I'm disappointed in you," Cujo said with an edge to his voice, his eyes growing narrowed and weary with a sudden tiredness. "You were doing so well; you were getting help, you were starting to make friends, you were doing so much better with your studies. Why did you up and decide to help a murderer?!"

"Because! He was the only one who would help me! I just wanted to protect the school- I wanted to do something good for you, I wanted to help!"

"And you trusted him?!" Cujo felt his pride crumbling with every word. "You thought he'd just do as you wanted, that he wasn't manipulating you?"

"No- I knew he was trying to, but, I-" she gasped, then cleared her throat with a raspy cough, "I stopped him! I stopped him from killing people, they told you I stopped him, right?! I wanted to help people- those cats aren't being honest with you; I think the one with pink hair was going to just let us rot! Those cats are all awful!"

He groaned aloud, "Dell can you just listen to yourself? They are actively trying to help us!" He dug a claw into his fur, scratching at the skin beneath in irritation. "I don't think you're being honest with yourself. You felt alone, didn't you? Instead of talking to me, you decided to act out for attention. Isn't that right?"

Dell remained silent. He couldn't see her, but he could still imagine the dog bringing her paws to her eyes in shame as she let the tears fall. Cujo felt a pang of guilt, which managed to ebb away his sore pride, letting his anger fall to the wayside as he collected himself for an apology. The retriever let his eyes shift to the ground, internally berating himself for his awful behaviour, and gave the dog a few seconds more before he opened his mouth again.

"... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say all that," he started, adopting a calmer tone. "It's just that... I'm really upset at what you did. I'm angry because I care about what you're doing- I care about you, alright?"

Cujo went silent. Dell, likewise, didn't say anything from beyond the large iron doors. The two simply let the argument sink in as the tension began to lower between them.

"W--e s---l f-----s, r----t?"

"Uh, sorry?" he asked.

"N-v--m--d," she replied, muttering.

"No, no. I mean, I can't hear you. Go again, would you?" He attentively put his floppy, golden ears closer to the door, lifting the large thing up so that his ear was flush with the metal so he could hear her murmuring.

"Friends. We're still friends... Right?"

Cujo squeezed his eyes shut. Calling her a friend felt arbitrary at this point, with how often they had more bad times than good. He wanted to call her his friend, but she had gone and thrown so much of his respect for her away, respect that was built up over two and a half years.

"I don't know, Dell," he muttered, sighing and letting his eyes drag down to the floor.

He could hear her about to sob, "P-Please."

"You've lost my trust, Dell. I want to help you and I know it's hard, but..." he nearly growled as frustration surged in his chest; he wanted to curse at the dog, but it would only drive her away from him, "I can't believe you've gone and done this..." He paused. "... Yes, we're still friends, but I really need you to earn that respect back." He unfurled his arms from their crossed position, putting one on his hip and the other on his head, looking to the side as he brushed his hair back with a paw. "I can't-"

Suddenly, the dog's eyes went wide and he pursed his lips in apprehension. Mitt, the siamese he had only just met far earlier in the day, was staring him down with a conflicted look on their face. They were leaning against one of the dozens of dead trees with their arms crossed, crumpling their otherwise spotless uniform.