I failed. I am not a strong whelper. I never have been. But that is not a problem for Pack. We contribute what we can. I have whelped three times before. Each time, I had only 4 or 5 pups. But they are all contributing to Pack so I can smell them without shame. They are now scattered across the various worlds. Some are even still on World. I hope they are more like Tall than me. I smelled a few when this horrifying situation was announced. They came for Soil from their comfort-units to take with them. Most of them are higher ranked than I am, I could not be more pleased.
The single, live pup I whelped in this horrid, stinking, wet place must, by dint of being alone, be a First Eyes. By dint of being different, she is a Runt^. She is ugly, but strong. She does not appear to have any natural aptitude towards provision, stealth, scent-work or even show caring to litter-mates. She has none. There is no shame in whelping a Runt but there is shame in making a Runt. I made her by my reckless fight with Vicious Set. The infection killed her litter-mates and damaged her brain. Not only have I failed to provide dogs to serve Pack, but I have done a disservice to Pack by damaging a dog. Many made-runts manage to serve Pack. Late First Eyes Runt Damp will not.
I can’t even feed this Runt I made. My teats are dry. Most of those swelling in our den-pack have not yet whelped. They did not take the dose until they arrived here, and they have at least a sixteenth-season^ to go and are producing more milk than me. Clumsy Rise, like me, took the dose before we were sent here to experience one last Heat on World, with Soil. She whelped four days after I did. She had 10 beautiful, sturdy pups. Although Clumsy is feeding her, Late First Eyes Runt will not nuzzle or sleep with her milk-mates. Late First Eyes Runt is alone. She does not move for many breaths. I feel the suspicion of me from the others in den-pack. They know I was reckless and risked the future of pack for individual anger. They know I do not deserve a section of their provision.
Although Tall and I are still in the same den-pack, he does not come near me. If he does, he scent-masks and keeps his eyes up. He has closed our modest pack-bond. He is the only whelp-mate I have had within or without den-pack. It might seem pretentious, but he is the only dog who has been interested in me, even in Heat. Now, he tries not to touch me even when we sleep-pile. I sleep closer to the edge of the pile each night. Last night, I was only touching tails with Clumsy feeding her pups while Late First Eyes Runt chewed on my empty nipples, sending the shooting agony I deserve through my body.
When I am not in-pack enough to sleep, I run through the night to the nearby monkey-den-complexes. I cannot run from my lack of Pack. I just need to be far enough away to shield myself from their barely-concealed contempt and disgust in our den-pack-bond. I have thrown myself into understanding the monkeys. I have found several interesting suggestions of the technology monkeys make. I cannot serve Pack in feeding den-pups. Clumsy has plenty of den-parents to help her. Clumsy’s pups have started to walk and play. Soon Late First Eyes Runt will be mobile too. This may be the last chance I get to go where I please, like a real dog.
There is a pile of dry, dead grasses beneath a monkey-made canopy. It is soft and dry. Even when it rains, as it seems to constantly here (more than in a lifetime’s worth of Wets on World). I sometimes lie there. I have not deep-slept in an eighth-season due to being not in-pack enough. I am always tired. No-dog serves with me so no-dog will notice me shirking. I obviously cannot deep-sleep in those situations but resting is pleasant.
The canine smell is still everywhere. At first, I could lie in the small structure, where my failure began, and smell the previous resident as well as me, Vicious Set and Tall. Although that is fading (whoever left that scent is not here anymore), I continue to find more canine scents. Maybe there are dogs on Damp-World. The briefing told us to expect recognisable animals. Why not Soil-dogs, or something like them? Maybe they could be allies in the coming fight. I have followed the scents around the planted den-complexes. Maybe if I could find these canine individuals, they might be useful to Pack. That would almost be as good as having a litter of future warriors. I have followed the trails far from the den-complexes and into the new-wilds that surround them. They have been everywhere. They are often accompanied by monkey-stench. They have good diets of high-quality provision. They seem to have no parasites. Many appear to be sterile.
There are at least 5 individuals I can now identify. There are many others who came here occasionally. They left faint whispers of scent with almost no information. I’ve gotten to know 3 of them. One was small and had much anger. She has left angry marks a pawslength off the ground all around the largest structure. There is a dog who smells like a cleaner, stupider version of Tall. He was busy and had important messages to share. He was larger than the angry-pup but still small. His scent is often accompanied by some weird sort of ungulate. His scent is everywhere. I think of him as Small, my imaginary mate, with whom I can talk when there is no-dog else. I know how obscene it is to be thinking about these non-thinking beings like that. But if I had a Heat-dose, maybe Small wouldn’t notice I was broken. Maybe he’d mate with me. And if I ruined all of them it would not matter because they would be vile cross-pups.