I have been following my nose for 4 Rises. The first night I was not able to deep-sleep. I couldn’t find a good place to den and, with no-dog to watch my back, I was too frightened to fully sleep. I spent all the second day looking for somewhere safe to den. My new den is well-concealed. I have travelled to and from it scent-masked. I know, if I cannot smell myself then, it is unlikely any creature here can.

By the time I found a suitable den, I was famished. There is no provision out here. In the hunting degree^, I found fruit and berries similar to those I know to be edible on World. I haven’t become sick from eating them yet, so I return to the bushes each day. I am already depleting those bushes and the trees will not drop their fruit on a request-shake, so today, my first priority is finding some alternative provision. I am pretty sure I cannot catch animal-provision on my own. I am not even confident with the large beetles I found. They smell as though I should not eat them. I will see how hungry I get.

I bury my nose in the scents of my bushes. I do not eat; I will smell better without polluting my palate. I raise my nose to try to find the flavour notes (a slight bitter hint under an earthy sweet scent). I can smell a salt, bitter, sour, earth, sweet, fresh harmony^. I am beginning to like the scent of this world. It is, of course, less comforting than Soil and World, but I find I like the background hum of this place. I cannot smell the notes of my bushes, in the big-wild’s symphony. The strongest source of sweet is down a prey-path. I follow the path, scent-masked and trotting low. I don’t want to tire myself as I travel; today might be a long one.

I travel, tracing unknown scents to plants I have never experienced before. I smell them all and taste a few, in small amounts. I think that is what a dog is meant to do in this sort of situation. If I am not sick, I will return to these bushes. I enjoyed a bitter, tangy flower. I found some kind of earthy growths with a hint of provision. They are satisfying and it is easy to find more now I know what I was smelling for. I am looking forward to gorging on them if I don’t get too sick today. I am hearing and smelling so many things. I regularly stop to take scent way-markers. I try to catalogue the scents of new plants. Without Pack to share the information with, it will be an incomplete log, but I will be able to make a start.

I smell a new plant far down the track. I take a scent way-marker by a bush before increasing my gait. I trot, nose high, tasting the concerto of the woods. There are plants talking and animals trying to not be found and earth and salt and …Soil?!  I veer off track, trying to catch the tiny waft of familiar – dogs and Soil and World.

I reach a clearing. Here there is a faint smell of Soil. I can convince myself it is not there and that it is from moment to moment. The scent is undefined and smudged. Whatever dogs seem to have been here, have been gone a long while. There is a wisp of Rise and Soil. Darting in and out of the trees, I establish all the trails from here have a tiny hint, but only the clearing itself gives enough scent that I am almost certain dogs were here. I scent-mark every tree. I am so thirsty that I barely can. At least the scents are strong. If Soil-dogs were here, they might be back with their noses. I want them to know there is another dog out here, on this salty world, who might be Pack.

I move back to the trail, unsure of even what I was pursuing. I pick up the sparkling scent and turn in the direction I would need to go to research it.

A good scent-scientist wouldn’t go exploring when they were so thirsty and hungry. I dig the soil of this world and find earthworms, just like World. I eat as many as I can. I do not usually like invertebrate-feed, but I must satisfy the yawning hunger, then find somewhere to drink, groom and lie down for a while. Then I can investigate that scent.

I ate a reasonable amount of earth in my provision. I can feel it lining my stomach. I pad towards the hint of moving water to slake my thirst. The forest smells amazing, so many things to explore. Maybe the sparkling plant can wait for another day and I will investigate some prey. I am feeling tired, a decent provision would help.

I wake next to the stream and decide this spot is better as den. Knowing other dogs are Outside, I might be able to find them if I investigate further from the barrier. By the stream, there are better trees, bushes I have not already plundered, and prey will need to come here to drink. I think I stand a better chance against prey if they are distracted.

Sun is still high in the strange sky. I groom briefly and then, scent-masking, start to follow the trails of the various creatures who come here to drink. Some kind of rodent^, fear and grass and berries, she travelled in zigzag patterns to the shore and, eventually, found this indent between the reeds and drank her fill. I practise stealth, sneaking up and pouncing on a branch and shaking it in my jaws. A bird, oily, fishy and wet, sat in this bush and watched for his prey. I bound into the bushes, disturbing other small birds I can’t catch. A different rodent, first season, full of his prowess, moved straight to the water and drank here in the clearest point, no subterfuge, full of grass and hormones^. He left down a well-trodden path into the woods. I lurk in the bush to one side of the path and leap onto the exact point where I will catch him. All of these would make a good feed.

Even scent-masked, my back and forth will have left slight after-shadows of scent to the observant. If the inhabitants of this planet sense anything like we do, then I will be particularly easy for them to smell. Everything smells different here; a comforting smell like Soil would stand out. I realise I might need to roll in the soil of this world. I know I have no more Soil on me. I try to convince myself I can still smell Them, but I know I can’t; not even the great Inquisitive Set could detect Soil on me now. But it is another thing to intentionally cover myself with the scent of this world. I can’t do that. I am not that desperate. Yet.

It has been many degrees of lengthening light, warm Set smells and several failed attempts to catch the rodents of this world. There have been plenty who have approached to drink, some cautiously, others brazenly, but all have caught scent of me sooner or later. Always sooner than I can catch them! Where I was slightly hungry before, the thought of actually almost having a real animal-provision has left me growling with a desperate need for blood in my mouth.

The bold rodent, who has now experienced his first mating and is eager for the next, is back. He does not look around as he approaches the water. He hunches down with his long ears against his back and begins to drink. I straighten up, I will catch this one. I am low and ready, scent-masked. His nose twitches, his ears flick up and he is gone.

I scrabble the dry earth up and roll in it. I feel the scent of this Salt-World against my skin, in my coat. It is filling me. It is taking away World and Soil. I am of this world now. Of this soil. I thought this would feel dirtier somehow, more infectious. More momentous. But in some ways, it feels like nothing. In other ways it feels kind of right, I am a dog without Pack. I should not smell like Soil-dogs. I am something different. I am a Salt-dog. Maybe the first of my kind. I feel guilty like it should be horrid, and my skin should crawl like ants, but it doesn’t. Maybe I was always meant for this world.

The first prey I made was a rodent. She was running in fear to the water, and she could not smell me, she could smell the fear of the others who had smelled me, but how was she to know the danger had not passed? She tasted salty and afraid. She is gone now. I am still hungry. Something’s coming.

I hunker down into the shadows and scent-mask. Rubbing my muzzle stained with blood in Salt-soil. Prey comes. Maybe this world is sending me provision as Soil did on World for so many dogs. Maybe all Soil loves all Dogs of all Worlds. I know I can’t take this animal alone, but I feel bold after my success with the rodent and I spring forward. He startles and starts to run. I give chase.

I am not alone. There is a pack! The dogs don’t smell or look like me. They are true Salt-dogs, natives of this world. I run with them, feeling the gloriously exhilarating, primal, feeling of running with Pack in pursuit of provision. They are longer-legged than me and are used to hunting provision. They corner and finish him rapidly. I stay back and smell them out. They are a family pack, an adult pair of whelpers and 4 who are not adult yet, two from this cycle and two are from the cycle before (they don’t smell like pups or dogs). They are hungry but not starving and none of them is sick. I approach, showing submission, belly down.

They growl from their feeding. I back up and show my belly, I am no threat, I seek friendship. After the carcass has been stripped of most of the meat and the important organs are eaten, they suffer me to move a little closer. They are getting full and less worried about some stray taking the less valuable flesh. There is a reason it is called “the runt-maker’s portion” in Pack. I creep a little closer, eyes averted to show willingness to submit. The Salt-dogs move away from me but leave a provision limb exposed for me to chew on.

When they decide they are done, they rise as one and leave into the forest. I follow at a reasonable distance. They know I am following but they don’t chase me off. They are loping along comfortably, and I am just able to keep within a distance that does not need concentrated scent-work. They have stopped. The pups have gone inside a natural den. The adults are standing in front, showing me that they are attentive. I am the age of their eldest pups, but I might smell like an adult to some-dog who has never encountered a Soil-dog. They know I am no threat. They relax but remain in sentry when they observe how I am panting and lolling from their gentle stroll.

Over the Set they have let me approach a little closer. When I went to shelter under an outcrop of rock near the mouth of their den, they stirred. I rolled over immediately. They seemed satisfied. I am cold here; it is warm in there. I will not sleep there tonight but who knows, I might be able to run with this pack for a while. This could be new Pack.