In the last sixteenth-season^ I have seen a change in Obedient First Eyes. She is quiet, still and becoming scentless. She still smells like her usual, delicious self but the smell of her emotions and feelings are barely perceptible. I feel a faint murmur of her down the pack-bond. I don’t know what to make of it. She is swelling with the pups inside her. The last time she swelled, she was quiet, but she was not still, and her joy radiated off her for every-dog to smell. She has been serving hard. Her new rank has been demanding, as we knew it would be. We expected to have a few more litters before she was promoted again but, here she is already 3-notched.

She has one Set she knows under her command. The others are unknown-Sets or (obviously unknown) Rises. Not having her previous assault-pack around must be hard. I am not as concerned about who I serve with. Creching isn’t like the military; we don’t train with the same dogs from when we leave creche until Service like warriors. Most warriors will serve with the same dogs from when they start training until they Walk into the Wilderness. Soil parents creche alongside every-dog but, along with the providers, fabricators, scientists, diggers, trainers and quarter-dogs^, when we reach training, we go into specialised training according to our skills, probably with no-dog we have met before.

I cannot imagine how she feels when I still feel lonely, lost and frightened of this new world. Soil parents everywhere have the same goal, we are all Pack, even when we are strangers. I have had so much support from my fellow Soil parents, particularly Soft Rise. She is also swelling (only a twentieth-season behind us). We share our excitement of being successful in our first obligation to Pack on Sour-World, and, possibly more importantly, that the creche will soon be thriving. All pups who were to begin training this cycle stayed on World to attend training. We only have a couple of littersworth^ of Runts in our care. Of course, we love the Runts^ and it is our duty to get them ready for training but there are so few, we do feel a little useless. And what is a dog who is not serving Pack?

Obedient First Eyes is useful though. She is fulfilling her designated tasks and she is to whelp before long. Whelp-leave is generally short. Any whelp-damage is healed with the help of the whelp-dose. The den-pack care for the den-pups together. Without a den-pack yet, the bulk of the feeding responsibilities will fall to Obedient First Eyes. When they are weaned and leave for creche, they will be my responsibility, along with several littersworth of litters from the den-complex. Then Obedient First Eyes will return to Service. Her 6-Notch, Hardy First Eyes Rise, seems to like Obedient First Eyes’ Service. She mentioned that there was Service for a dog as clever and strong as her. Obedient First Eyes seems to like and respect the 6-Notch so it could be worse for her, I guess.

As I am thinking of what feed I might arrange to be privately dropped to our den by a quarter-dog (swelling dogs are entitled to an extra portion), she seems to stir, and asks down the pack-bond,

( How are you finding life here, scent of my soul? ) She is not looking at me, but I see the notches in her ear pucker as her ear flicks.

( My World and Soil, I am as happy here as I can be. I am finding my Service-pack, both Set and Rise– ) at this the notch flickers again ( to be competent Soil parents. Our Runts are coming along well. We know we’ll have less time when the new pups come, so we are developing the Runt-facilities. QPG Aroma Rise has come to consult as he sets up the Runt-stores. The need for the large number of future pups to be trained quickly and well, might mean that we cannot offer future Runts the same level of care. I know it is only temporary. We will grow the creche over the next few cycles and Runts will receive all the care they need, but I sometimes think what Soil would say if They could see us now. ) She can’t help her lip curling. I stop. I’ve been babbling about my little troubles, speaking as though to another Soil parent. Most other dogs don’t really consider World and Soil as entities once they have begun training. Dog core values are all from the lessons of Soil and World, but the values are only rooted in The Story in your cycle(s) in creche. Soil parents are the keepers of The Story. I know more than one of us who still think of Soil and World as real, sentient, beings rather than a story our ancestors made up to help guide the behaviour of a young, wild pack. Pretty much every-dog else thinks of us as sentimental.

( Sorry, my spots, I know that Soil parents have a special relationship with Soil and World. You are getting on with Soft Rise aren’t you? ) She nuzzles my muzzle. I can smell how sorry she is.

( Yes, I am. She’s swelling too. She’s a curiosity expert. It is nice to have some-dog who has contrasting skills. ) Before I can begin prattling on again she thinks suddenly,

( I think I need to do some things. )

( What things, my spots? )

( Some things that might not seem for-Pack. But I need you to understand that it is for-Pack. Just maybe a different Pack. )

( O-K? You mean Unified Pack? )

( Yes, but I was actually thinking bigger… ) I can’t begin to comprehend what she means. This is not a dog thought. I can smell her fear. What is happening?

( What’s bigger than Unified Pack? ) Her muzzle tautens, she becomes scent-silent again and stands.

( Never mind. I am going to walk under the night-Sun. ) There is no night-Sun on World. Obedient First Eyes finds the night-Sun fascinating. Restlessness is less alarming than her uncanny stillness. I can’t help but still worry. She is an intuitive dog. If she is worried, then something is wrong. I listen to her slinking down the passage.

I move around the den for a while to make sure everything is as easy as possible for her when she returns. I lie in the sleeping area and try to get comfortable. Obviously, no-dog can easily sleep alone so I lie with my chin on my paws smelling the wafts of her, of her fear, of her swelling, of her essence. As a scent-wave subsides, I catch the scent of a stranger passing in the tunnels nearby. That’s not surprising, we are far from familiar with all our new complex-mates. Most public spaces are a cacophony of Set and Rise. Several dogs have had to have seclusion to allow them to adjust to this new scentscape. This dog is a Rise, but I cannot glean the specifics of rank through the haze of unfamiliar smells, underscored^ by the ever-present sour smell of this world.

There is no reason why a Rise passing at this time should be considered sinister (they are no longer our enemies and each dog is entitled to go as they please), but I decide to go and keep my nose on this stranger. She might not be heading to the surface and, even if she were, she might just want to look at the cold sun in the sky, just as Obedient First Eyes does. Even if she meant ill-will to Obedient First Eyes, I would be next to no help. I am not a refined warrior and my low-ranking leaves me practically helpless anyway. Despite all these reasons, but possibly for another, I follow, belly-low and scent-masked, down the passage to the surface.

I can barely hear the Rise in the passage ahead of me, I pause every few strides to listen for her. It is on the 6^th stop that I realise that I can’t hear anything anymore. I am nearly at the surface, that Rise has not come this way, she had probably been visiting a complex-mate or even just walking off the aches of swelling as Obedient First Eyes is. I have to drop my own pretence that I left the comfort of our den to do anything other than check on she whom I love more than my own spots. I remain low and as nose-silent as I can, not scent-masking but not scenting. I amble forward into the provisioning-spot.

Obedient First Eyes isn’t in the provisioning-spot. I shuffle up the entrance-ridge above our complex and peer over the top. I hold my nose high. I can smell nothing, just the two guards, a Rise and a Set, one newly notched and one old with many scars besides his two notches. They are high-ranked to be on guard duty. I guess with so many dogs swelling, on Heat-leave and with so few of us to start with, we must be desperate for guards. There is not a sigh to my nose of Obedient First Eyes. I cannot sense her in any way. I turn back. She may have already returned to den and found me gone. I don’t want her to worry. Just then, I see a tiny movement over another den-complex ridge. It may be nothing. She may be waiting in den, but I decide to investigate.

I should really stroll confidently over to the other den-complex, it’s not like we aren’t allowed to go where we wish and, in times like these, acting suspiciously is a shortcut to being out-Pack. I am stalking my mate. Why? What am I worried about her thinking? The multiple meanings of that last thought sink in as I continue as quietly and scent-masked as I can be. I am almost convinced I was imagining movement, when I see the silhouette of a familiar nose raised to the sky. She sniffs once in my direction. Her eyes, ears and nose are instantly on me. I go onto my belly and roll onto my back, to show her I am sorry. She walks over confidently as though we are just bond-mates bumping into one another while each walking at night. Is that what we are?

( My World and Soil, what a pleasure. Will you walk with me? I think I need to talk to you, and it feels easier out here. ) I cannot read her at all. I panic. What is happening? What does she have to say that is easier under a strange night-Sun rather than in our snug (if strange smelling) den? Why did we have to come to Sour-World with this night-Sun and this odd provision? I try to contain myself. Maybe this is just her adjusting to this Sour-World. I want to help if I can.

( Of course, my spots. ) We fall into step and head out over the den-complex entrance ridges, between the entrances to littersful of dens. We are not heading towards the rest of the new FlatSourment^. As it stands, it is a collection of indoor and outdoor spaces tailored to the basic needs of society: the creche, the incomplete training area, the quarter-dogs’ stores, various military structures and recreation spots for dogs and pups alike. We head towards the edge of the settlement itself and an unfamiliar wild. There are no predators in the compound that would give Soil-dogs any trouble and Obedient First Eyes took down two hyenas on World before she was first notched, but that does not make the stench any less frightening. I am beginning to relax into the pace and the stark light when she speaks.

( If we truly are now Unified Pack, then we have been fighting a war for the last 100 generations for no reason. We are not different. We never have been. We have been told to hate and then we were told to not hate those enemies but to hate some others, who are strangers. ) She is walking like she’s on patrol, upright and tail rigid. I give her fixed eye-contact. She has my attention. ( What’s to say that these strangers, these birds, monkeys and bugs, are just as much different to us as Rise was a season ago? I have to know. If they are like us, even a tiny bit, then maybe we do not need to all go swelling and trying to create 5 more Worlds. This place is different and maybe we can survive better here by talking to those for whom this is World. ) I maintain eye contact. She mustn’t stop. She is glorious as she spouts this treason. She is alive and stunning and radiating excited scents. I am terrified and awed. I do not know what she is saying or what it means. The only thing I know, more than I have ever known anything, is that I will follow this dog wherever she goes. She is my Pack and if she is the only pack I have, so be it. ( I am going to leave. I hope to before I whelp. Whelp-leave will be the best chance I have to get away and safe. ) She doesn’t add that she knows what a horrifying choice she is giving me. She watches me retch at the thought of behaving so out-Pack. I don’t have to think about it for a heartbeat.

( We are Pack. ) She relaxes immediately and the wave of her relief washes over me and I smell every muscle relaxing and her scent-mask drop.

( I am looking for exit points. There will be places we can burrow out. I think. Beyond the warning-wall is the barrier. No-dog is being vigilant in tracking digging. After all, what dog wants to be out-Pack? ) We make eye-contact and both chuckle at the sheer lunacy of what we have just agreed to do. ( I have some other ideas, but I am not sure yet. I might ask you to stroll with me some nights. It seems more natural for us to walk while I am swelling. I think we should go back to den. )

Once we’re in our own den and settled together, she says,

“Thank you, I don’t know how I could deserve you.”

“That’s my first thought every day, Soil and World.” We pile to sleep. This unfamiliar den suddenly seems safe and comforting. What will I do without a comfort-unit with the smell of Soil and World anytime I need it? I get up and sit in front of it. I have not yet opened it despite wanting to every day. I nudge open the hatch, put my nose into the opening and breathe very deeply. I click it shut, return to Obedient First Eyes’ back and fall asleep with the smell of comfort in my lungs.