The night smells dusty. Many hasty, shallow tunnels have been dug into World’s hide to bring through weapons. First into the “compound-tunnel” beyond the initial barrier (a quarter-day^ wide separating each compound from the others by, now meaningless, barriers). Then distributed between individual compounds. Now, into compounds. Every-dog in our attack-pack has rolled in Soil. We entered the compound-tunnel by wide, rapidly-dug tunnels; we will cross this barrier on the Soil as Pack, running. We have not yet discovered how Soil Themself impacts the barrier, but action must be taken now before any other species learns about it. Swift and Fierce are beside me. I can feel them breathing with me. We three are guiding the strongest forces left on World into our most important fight. We are one now; we won’t be separated. Fierce is not a Set anymore, she is Pack.

All-Pack Guider^ No-Eyes First Eyes Runt^ Rise decided on this rapid timeframe when we were the first scouting-pack back. She notched us all herself. We are already being recognised for our strength. We are eager to serve Pack. We can purge these parasites from World and, soon enough, bring the rest of Pack home and all be with Soil and World as a united Pack.

We have reached the planned entrance point. On the far side of the compound-barrier the ground is flat and clear, except for the suggestions of tunnels about to break through World’s skin. A stream enters the compound here which will help both in applying and removing Soil as necessary. We know roughly which invaders are in which compounds. It is however possible that a barrier within has been lowered. Every degree^ we wait, the not-of-Worlds are closer to potentially discovering what Soil can do or to join together and face us as a unified force. I can feel the anticipated blood in my mouth. I have never made a tortoise prey. I wonder if their blood tastes cold.

I breathe in our attack-pack. There are 6 littersworth^ with us. Every dog who can fight is in one of these attack-packs. Each pack is within nose and earshot^ of the ones either side. We are waiting for scent and sound instruction. Fierce and Swift are eager to go. They are brave and beautiful examples of dogs. They are pacing and checking and listening and smelling. The other dogs in the pack are alert and ready but not as excited. I review the other dogs with notches. There are several with one notch, I am the only two-notch. There are dogs older than me, with more warrior experience who wish they had been notched by All-Pack Guider No-Eyes First Eyes Runt Rise, that they had come back before us, with our news. We were first back, but we weren’t the only pack to discover how Soil has, once again, acted in protection of Soil-dogs and World. There is a scent of ambition thwarted. This pack was three a few days ago and now we three, are guiding 6 littersworth into a crucial battle to reclaim World.

Fierce’s ears prick up, she has heard a hoo call. The pack to Set is in position. I return the hoo to Set and turn to hear confirmation from Rise. All-Pack Guider No-Eyes First Eyes Runt Rise is guiding that pack. They are further away, and the wind is not favourable.

The tension and readiness of the pack has slackened as we wait for the hoo. It has been nearly a degree of waiting. It is approaching the Rise hunting-degree. That degree before Sun emerges, renewed from big-saltwater like a Runt from Soil ready for anything, is the ideal time to attack. The invaders are mostly diurnal and so we stand the best chance before Rise. Swift, Fierce and I move away from the others to check in. We do not groom each other, it would dislodge Soil, but we touch noses.

“They are not all happy to be guided by us,” Swift is anxious of being given command of such a large force when we have not grown in the usual way.She worries that if it comes to it, the sneezes won’t go our way.

“They know that we are valued by All-Pack Guider No-Eyes First Eyes Runt Rise. They won’t give us trouble” Fierce has proven herself as loyal as any Rise dog I have met. She smells proud of her new notch.

“They only have to follow us inside. Then it will be a matter of stopping everything we find. We shall travel together. I want to go as deep as possible. Look for potential defences and dens. We are not going to go into a frenzy and let anything escape.”

“Yes, Notch.” They show they agree to be guided by sneezing and dropping onto their bellies. I bow my acceptance of guiding. As my head comes back up, we hear a distant but distinct hoo. I send the reply, relay the hoo and we return to the attack-pack. Every-dog is rolling and renewing their Soil

“With Soil and for World” I murmur and the three of us break into a trot to the barrier. We enter, travelling abreast. The air on this side of the barrier stinks of too many animals in too little space. We may have a long journey given the size of each compound, but it seems the vermin in this enclosure are not far from where we entered. The attack-pack silently and scent-masked separate into smaller, combat-packs and we spread out in an arc. Each dog to their own part of this. We are not to destroy technology, or anything fabricated that might teach us about the invaders. The entire attack-pack breaks into a run. Fierce and Swift are sweeping ahead of me and the strength of Unified Pack is at my back.

As Pack runs and disperses, it’s just the three of us. We are evenly matched, and we don’t need Swift to track for us. We can all smell where we are going. I hear a short cry from the forest. Someone has made their first prey. I hope the other pests don’t hear it. Hope shatters when, I hear barking. Not communicating, as we know it, but the basic communication of rage and fear from a pre-click, chirrup or whistle pup. We smell fire and slow. There is a circle of light round a controlled fire. I am surprised these monkeys have managed to control fire when they don’t seem to understand basic digging. They make no sense. They are horrifying. There is a pair of apes with sticks. They heard their conspecific’s scream. With them, is a small, strange-smelling, un-spotted dog. It is screaming wordless fury at the dark. The fear is rolling off them in waves. They stink. They are polluting World. They were eating flesh-provision I can’t identify. Prey-animals are for Soil-dogs from World.

I have a waft of burnt, high anger. I snarl and launch myself at them from the darkness. The monkeys are dead and polluting World no more in few heartbeats. I taste their blood. Fierce and Swift are standing over the made-prey. We move on quickly. The idiot dog runs at us snarling. I rip her throat out in a heartbeat. I feel sorry for this pup-dog. It feels sacrilegious to kill a canine, let alone a made-runt (made by who, I do not know) who is hardly at fault for not knowing the ape-beasts are abusing a world that was never theirs. She lets out a scream as she becomes prey. I don’t know if there are others.

We move on, into a monkey-settlement. They have placed make-shift dens on Soil. They are made of some kind of hide, but it does not smell of anything that has been alive. They are easy to enter and despatch whatever is inside. More and more of the apes are awake, but they seem trapped in their dens. There are no escape tunnels and monkeys are easy to exterminate in their pouches.

We then find a swarm of the monkeys from the more permanent structures they have made. I can smell where they have dug into Soil to make these tic-shells. I realise that they have placed their dwellings on Soil and then put Soil on the outside. What kind of backwards runt-makers are these apes?! I feel a shake growing as my body feels like World. I want to scratch but that is not how we will get these parasites off World.

I trill to tell any other dogs nearby that there are a large number of pests here. We don’t expect many dogs will come; it is a large compound with so many of these creepy hairless apes to dispose of. They are trying to organise themselves. They are making a variety of complex calls. They reek of fear and panic. They start to try to fan out to corner us. As one, we three run forwards. I start clawing and biting what I can. I feel salt on my tongue, copper in my throat and hear intoxicating screams. There is an ear-splitting bang and a disgusting polluting smell, not of-World. I stop thinking and let a primeval urge wash over me and I rip flesh and feel bones crush in my jaws.

I think I smell Wilderness gas. I have only smelled it once before. In training, they let us smell the pelt of Pack Guider Scruffy Rise who was killed, along with most of the Rise Continent, by the devious Set trick of using Wilderness gas. Since then by agreement, no Pack has used it. Then I smell Swift. We are already running to the barrier to the compound-tunnel. Fierce is not with us when we come together on the flat. We can’t smell her over the cacophony of blood, fear and …gas? We run back as one, truly Pack. Fierce is fighting a monkey who has managed to get some kind of vine around her neck, I don’t know why she doesn’t bite through it but I can smell that the blood in her mouth and round her neck, soaking her coat, are her own. Swift and I launch ourselves at the disgusting slippery ape. In heartbeats I can taste his trachea and he is silent.

All is silent. I can hear a few dogs getting away from this sickening place, where the pests have been purged, but no more screams. The reek of fear and blood is beginning to quieten. The blood is not pumping, and bodies are not producing adrenaline^. I can smell no sign of live monkeys. Fresh combat-packs will be entering over the next few degrees to systematically sweep the compounds to finish off any surviving freaks. Our Service to Pack is completed.

We all run. We run towards the stream. We roll in Soil and dash across the barrier. The air in the tunnel smells only of night, water, Soil and Fierce’s blood. After the huge swirling, churning scents within, it feels fresh and clear. My nose is ringing. I detect other dogs emerging nearby.

Swift is already grooming Fierce. They are trying to get the shiny metallic vine from round Fierce’s neck. We cannot break it and it just seems to cut into her hide further as we try to free her. She is panicking, needing to be free. Swift and I start to groom her carefully, her ears and other soothing places. Swift finds some clot-weed in a hastily dug medical-cache and chews it before passing the chewed ball to me. As we groom Fierce, she calms. The blood stops flowing but there is so much in her coat that we know she must get back to a quarter-dog^ soon.

There are now various dogs leaving the compound-tunnel, all with blood on their mouths and fear in their eyes. Was it Wilderness gas? Did these monstrous beasts find out about Wilderness gas? They have been here for such a short time. They didn’t dig exit tunnels, but they have advanced weaponry?! What other atrocities would they have committed if we hadn’t stopped them?

Pack has begun to den down. More dogs are joining us but the later they join, the less fit they are. The attack has taken its toll on many dogs. They are begging us for help. They want to Walk, but they can’t walk anymore. Several notched dogs are travelling amongst those injured and asking them if they want to Walk. I have never done this before. I have fought and injured dogs before but letting them Walk is an earthy^ relationship. Helping them back to Soil. It is for those who care for and guide their pack. I start to travel between dogs lying in the clearing. Most have already been offered and, in small packs, there is clot-weed and grooming and care. There is one dog, she is big and strong and has the scars of a dog who has seen many battles but the whole ears of one who has never proven themselves obedient enough to be notched.

She is breathing heavily, there is not much blood. It seems wrong that a body so strong should be struggling without wounds. She is licking a cut on her leg. She acknowledges my purpose and exposes her throat for me to bite. I smell her contentment and peace but there is still fear underneath it all. I grab her throat, close my teeth around the gristle and tear. I shake my head as much as I can, and I feel her go limp. She has returned to Soil.

I don’t offer dispatch to any other dog. I return to Swift and Fierce. I bury my nose into their warm bodies and try to not smell gas and metal and the beginning of infection.