Dog On A Rope

15 - Recognition

Afore and Laika had run long and hard, sides heaving and legs burning. Paws throbbing, they finally were able to relax, having run past Jall Tribe a good distance. They were still shocked to have gotten away so easily.

No sound of pawsteps behind them. No nearby voices. No scents but that of themselves and the forest surrounding them. And suddenly, they were safe, and they had managed to outrun the danger. It had been incredibly difficult, and now their bodies paid the price with aches and moans.

Laika and Afore practically collapsed into the dirt on their sides, heaving from exhaustion as the adrenaline drained from their bones and the aching pain set in. Afore had gained several scratches from his quick kills, and now he was tormented not only by their stings, but by the sting of what he had done. Shambled minds soon grew to the present, and they both had to live with the consequences of such a deadly escape.

The forest was able to soothe Afore's scrambling mind for a moment with its familiar scents and shallow cooing sounds. He allowed his hard breathing to soften and slow, his posture to relax as he laid in the dirt and leaves, filling his nostrils with their sweet, decaying aroma. Anertha smelled like rain, like pines, like dirt, like gentle forest and the animals that lived there. He closed his eyes, taking all of that in and focusing on nothing else. Relaxed, he sighed deeply, filling his lungs once again with cool air just as his body cooled. A gentle breeze wafted their way and creased his bloodstained fur.

Laika did more or less the same, though it took her a bit longer to calm down completely. She inhaled deeply, holding it, watching as the branches above them wavered in the gentle wind and as the leaves along the forest floor scattered and rose with it. Her breathing slowed to normal, as well.

In the bitterly calming silence, the two held eye contact for a moment, watching the other for what it was worth; for what they both truly were, and the colours they had not yet seen.

Finally, that silence was broken and Laika spoke, quiet and tenderly, "Afore..."

"Laika, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I never intended to..."

The epiphany struck her then, but Laika, as she stared at this wolf- not a dog, not a coyote, a wolf- she was unafraid. Unusually, she was completely unafraid. Oh, no, she had vowed silently to herself that she would never be afraid again. She was roped to a beast, a beast with a lust for blood and the strength to kill any one he ever met. And it wasn't that he didn't, and it wasn't that he was a kind animal to her, and it wasn't that he was gentle in all other ways, and it wasn't that they had argued immensely like normal dogs do, and it wasn't that he had been so ignorant about her tribe like she had been about the forest that made them equal; no, because the truth was, as with life, not everyone was equal; and as with Laika and Afore, the two were not equal. Afore was incredible. He was massive, built like a demon and behaved just as ferociously as one. He was stubborn and impolite and lacked social skills; he was apologetic, desperate to make up for the image that he had built of himself, that all wolves had rightfully built for themselves as monsters and killers, for that is what they were. And with that, Laika knew that the two could never be equals.

But she stared right back at this wolf's frightened, sorry face, right at his large brown eyes that just an hour before had ignited with something so purely hatred and evil that she had been nearly more frightened of him than of the dogs trying to kill her. And here, in this singular moment, Laika remained unafraid, and instead, she grew to respect this stubborn, ignorant wolf, this wolf with a temper like no other, with poor manners, and a crude, rude way of speaking; calling her stupid and foul. Still, Laika admired him. She did not fear him, no, and she did not respect him as a dog, or as a coyote, or even as a fellow canine, for he would never be a simple "fellow canine" at all. She respected him as a wolf, as a powerful, killing machine, and one that had rightfully earned that title, as well.