Dog On A Rope

3 - Days And Nights

Days and night, days and nights. The slow, begrudging passing of time. The air seemed stale and stagnant and dry and all things terrible. The dim light that came in from outside glowed and then darkened.

One evening, the wolf sighed, staring at the ceiling and laying on his back. As far away as the rope would allow, the saluki laid down, head on her paws and a sigh in her throat, eyes open and closing, open and closing, as if she couldn't decide whether or not to sleep. The rope tugged at her throat uncomfortably.

"Did The Baron give you a reason for my capture?" The wolf asked, his loneliness and the silence allowing his thoughts to wonder.

Laika sighed, bothered by his voice, "No."

"You just follow any orders he gives you?"

"Yes. He's The Baron. We have to."

"And if you were to disobey?"

"I'd be punished then, I suppose. But it won't matter. I won't disobey."

The wolf rolled onto his side and lifted his head, looking at Laika with a sparked curiousity, "I think that is yet another difference between us. I don't blindly obey."

Not moving from where she lay, she bared her teeth, "I don't, either. We are not pets."

"Seems a little like The Baron is your owner. He literally has you on a leash."

She growled further, "You don't know anything."

The wolf just looked at her with large, curious eyes, "I don't. I've never been in a tribe before. I've always had to run from them."

"You should have kept running. I wish you'd never come here," Laika hissed, laying her head back to the floor and rolling away from his stare. The wolf still peered at her backside, still curious. She was the only presence he had known for several days now. Although mostly it was just silence, they did talk quite often from their intense boredom and frustration, usually in small spats or disagreements. They both seemed to huff gently with it, a pent-up energy and anger and frustration as the days lingered and the sun outside set.

Laying on the floor and gnawing hopelessly on the rope, the wolf asked, "What does your tribe tell you about the wolves? I only heard what you told The Baron and what my pack told me when I was younger."

Laika sighed, tired of his occasional conversation, "They told us how it is; that you are huge, unruly beasts, capable of strong destruction without the use of tools. You are a primitive beast."

"You think we are primitive because we don't use tools?" He flicked an ear, cocking his head.

She sat up, a little proud now, "So it is true! You don't use any tools?"

"We dig for our homes. We don't use hides to build tents. We don't use stones, or twines, or leathers to create armours or weapons. We have our teeth and each other. That is our way. But we are just as educated. Our cultures are just different."

"Right," Laika was unconvinced, and held a brow raised.

The silence stretched and ached, as did the boredom.

The wolf spoke first, once again, "Do you miss being outside?"

"Of course I do."

"No, I don't mean outside of the cave. I mean outside of the tribe." The wolf sat up, looking at Laika who laid sprawled on the cool floor. He spoke with gentleness, "Whenever you got to run outside to catch me, did it exhilarate you? Is it fun to go outside, into the woods and prairies and out of the town?"

Laika stared at the wolf with half-shut eyes, processing what she thought was a very stupid question, and then said slowly, "Not particularly. My home is right here with these other dogs."