Of a Better World

A New Arrival

The house smelled faintly of wet dog.

It was a smell that unsettled Horror to say the least. It wasn't particularly the smell that unnerved him, but rather the source of it, and in this case, the lack of one. He hadn't the slightest idea where it was emanating from.

The smell was one that came with foreboding connotations in his universe, if you were close enough to smell it then you were already in the wrong place. Images that came to mind were those of large, clawed paws that were more than capable of smashing a skull underneath their weight, and gnashing teeth. It meant that you needed to get out of dodge or die trying.

Long ago, Horror remembered, it meant something different. It had simply meant that the canine unit had decided to crowd themselves into Grillby's during their midday break. Pleased, slobbery grins covered all of their faces as they messily scarfed down their burgers and left the bar stools covered in fur. Once, it brought to mind fonder memories.

But that was the past and the endearing sentiment had long since worn thin. Now the smell was a cause of concern for those with the wits to survive.

Not having any idea as to where the smell was coming from left Horror's nerves fried and him constantly on guard. The dogs rarely lingered around the edge of the forest, and scarcely ever entered the town. They only ever risked attempting to force their way into Snowdin out of extreme hunger, because while they were a force to be reckoned with- so was Horror. But hunger rotted the mind and could force a monster to do anything, so sometimes they trespassed into the small town. When they did their intentions were clear, and Snowdin often had a few less residents to show for it.

It left Horror stuck in anticipation of a frantic confrontation with feral monsters who treated living things more like chew toys.

But the problem was that they didn't seem to be stalking around the edges of the forest or anywhere near the town. During his daily patrols, now hypersensitive to danger, the smell of their presence and territorial marking ended long before he got to the fringes of the forest. The evidence worked in confirmation that the smell appeared to only be stuck near the house and shed. Too faint to trace, and too distinct to ignore.

It drove Horror crazy.

Crooks seemed to notice it too, and while the smell seemed to annoy him a bit as well, he largely ignored it, going so far as to brush by it even when brought it up. Horror tried to follow his brother's example, but his paranoia had already reached a fever pitch.

There weren't many things Horror could lose sleep over, but the scent quickly caused him to become restless. Laying still in what had to be the middle of the night, he quietly mused over how it was the earliest he'd probably ever woken up in his life.

Seconds away from achieving his goal of coaxing himself to sleep, he heard something.

A few rooms away and impossibly soft, were the unmistakable sounds of scrabbling paws on the worn carpet. 

The split second realization triggered something that prompted Horror to shoot from his bed. Scarily quiet for his size he tore down the hall towards the source of the noise. He was hardly all that surprised when he realized his legs were taking him to Lust's bedroom.

Horror honestly didn't know what he expected when he got to the perceived threat, he was moving too fast to know, to think anything. All he was aware of was the adrenaline running through each and every one of his shot out nerves, screaming at him to eliminate the danger. And that he had no choice but to listen.