Dog On A Rope

6 - Darkness

It was too dark to see. Laika was breathing heavily, sliding into that cramped little den, built from dirt that had been carefully dug out. Then, the den's tunnel opened up into a larger room. It was still small, though: it could fit maybe three large dogs at maximum.

Laika's shaky voice was barely a whisper, "How did you know this was here?"

The wolf responded in a deep, quiet tone, frustrated with her, "I made it."

"You lived here?"

"Not really, I had a couple of dens I dug out for sleeping or for kills. Now, will you please shut up?"

She lifted her nose, "Don't tell me to shut up."

The incoming of thudding paws overhead, the snap of a twig underfoot, and the crunching of dried leaves on the forest floor, and the wolf was alert, eyes staring widely and focused at the tunnel entrance to the den. The whites of his eyes were nearly the only thing visible in the shadow of the den. A very shallow stream of moonlight glinted in from the entrance, which was a long inclined tunnel away, and not exactly visible. It was a good, unsuspecting hiding area. The wolf's ears swivelled and perked in focused listening as the sounds of dogs grew nearer overhead. Being underground, he could not smell them. He could only hear them. All he could smell was the dank soil of Anertha, like rain, like grass, and like rot. A hopeful thought for him was that, perhaps, being under the wet, decaying dirt in a small den would conceal his and Laika's scent, as well.

"How could you stay down here at all?" Laika asked quietly with distaste, staring down at her feet which were covered with dirt. "It's gross. It's dirty."

"It's safe. Now please, be quiet." His voice was lined with a nervous, shallow growl, his head lowered and body close to the ground. He was worried, and it was all over his face in the form of wide eyes, furrowed brows, and nervously licking lips. Creases lined his face and muzzle.

"Really, again," Laika started, but did not get a chance to finish. As the crashing sounds of the dogs overhead grew near upon them, the large wolf snarled with order and leapt upon Laika, pinning her to the mud floor with his large paws on her shoulders. She could merely see the strong whites of his eyes and the glint of reflection on his black, wet nose. Though, she could feel the warmth of his breath caress her face, and she inhaled deeply and held it without realising it, suddenly a little afraid, suddenly a little nervous. They were so close, so still. The air seemed hot and stagnant. They were frozen in pounding, silent fear. Both of their heartbeats seemed to thud as loud as an earthquake.

He did not look at her. The wolf still looked towards the entrance. Heavy footsteps overhead, crunching of browned winter leaves, and strong, muffled voices.

"Where did they go? Their scent ends here," one said.

"Impossible," another said, "They're here somewhere. Find them. Keep searching."

"Yes, sir."

And then the large footsteps pounded away. After a few moments, they grew quieter, and quieter, and then faded completely. Finally, the grey wolf let out a shaken exhale, and pulled himself away from Laika, who also suddenly could breath easier. He glanced up at her eyes for the first time since they'd been stuck hiding in that dark den together. Eyes met. Beady, gleaming eyes, sharing the familiar release of relief.

"I thought we were going to die," the wolf said with exasperation, a little breathless, his voice still hinted with quiver.

"You seemed so collected and normal," Laika said. "You were strong."

"Was I? I just needed you to keep your stupid mouth shut. You talk way too much," he chuckled a bit.

But Laika just frowned, "No way! You ask way more questions than I do."