Finally. Still Runt^ and I let a brief leak of excitement seep down the pack-bond to each other. We have been waiting for an eighth-season^ for the Set separatists to take the bait. We have filled our time serving in our new roles; I as a haggard, experienced, disgruntled, proud Set provider and Still Runt as my protégé. We catch sufficient provision to keep our boss off our backs, and then I continue to give her a crash course in key stealth-skills for long-term missions.
She is a quick study. Though I cannot tell if she has any eagerness or excitement to learn any of it. She is quietly absorbing what I teach. She is adept at scent-work. Not only does she have immaculate scent-masking but she is skilled in projecting emotions, as necessary. She can smell like a naïve pup – giddy and relaxed. While we wait (in the same clearing from the first night) for the separatists to maybe approach us, we are practicing controlling and concealing emotions down the pack-bond to each other. If this pack accepts us, then we need to be able to communicate privately without it slipping into the pack-bond we will share with the separatists.
We have picked small fights with various Rises over small things and we have been overheard talking about Rises in a way that is not-for-Unified Pack. Then we have left wide scent-trails back and forth to this spot. Finally, a dog is approaching. It is the smallest of the pack; he is cautious. He wants to appear self-assured, but he does not have Still Runt’s talents for scent-deception and his anxiety is apparent to us both.
We both send a flash of fear into the air. I leap forward aggressively,
“What are you doing here?”
“A dog may go where they please”
“You are a Set so we will let you pass. But, if you know what is good for you, don’t go about sneaking up on dogs who want to be alone”
“And if I were a Rise?” I go to reply but Still Runt snarls,
“If you were a runt-maker Rise then I’d tear your throat out like you were provision! Then I would feed your carcass to Rises” I send a reassuring approval down the pack-bond, followed by a little whiff of calm, let’s not push him too far. We eye him, refusing to defer to his stare. He is notched and, even as providers, he could expect our deference. If only he knew how many notches I haven’t had. He’d be belly down in the Sweet-World dirt. He appears to relax a little.
“I am in-Pack, fellow Set-Pack. I represent a pack of clever Sets across the Sweet-World, who share your feelings on Rises.” He is not giving us much information. Still Runt, plays her part as hot-blooded, impetuous pup well,
“What can we do to help? We are providers, we can contaminate provision for Rises–” I shush her, showing my embarrassment and fear and mistrust of this stranger.
“Calm yourself, Set-pup. I will speak to the others. We will be in contact soon.” He leaves suddenly, not concealing the pride he is feeling at having found some new recruits for their cause. They are skittish and will need to see a lot of commitment from us before they let us in. It will potentially be an eighth-season before they trust us enough for us to get a real idea of what their organisation is and whether it is worth worrying about or not. What we have seen, thus far, is that they are not a very well-organised pack, but this Service has always taught me that you cannot trust any appearances.
( Well done ‘Set-pup’, you were the scent of an eager revolutionary, too young and idealised to realise the trials ahead. I think we’ve piqued their interest. )
( Thanks boss. ) Even on our own, in the pack-bond, she does not call me ‘Notch’ anymore. “Back to den?”
“Yeah,” ( I need to leave a signal for Honest, so he knows we have finally made contact. ) I guide her to the cache of leaf-markers. To the untrained dog, they are very difficult to see since they do not move in breezes and are scentless. Stealth-warriors must learn to spot the specific shapes while still. I take one carefully, so as to not contaminate it with scent and climb a squat tree opposite the den-complex where Honest and Generous are probably sleeping as pack, and firmly embed it on the highest branch I can reach. The shape could only be interpreted by Honest, even if another stealth-warrior saw it. He and I are using the shape system we used on World; all the other dogs who could interpret this shape, are on other worlds. I don’t stop the wave of loneliness from pouring down the pack-bond to Still Runt Set, if we want to be pack, we need to be honest with each other. I am hoping some openness might make her share a little more of herself.
( The Sweet-World is making a lot of dogs behave strangely. They don’t seem like an expert unit, more like desperate dogs, forced together. They might let us in quicker than we imagine. You could be back with your pack before Resilient Rise has managed a littersworth^ of scars from Generous Set! )
( I could be. Whatever Pack needs. ) I am weary, again. I clumsily climb down and strike out to our den-complex. I stop in the provisioning-spot where Generous, Honest, Resilient Rise and Timid Runt Set will all be having provision in a few degrees^ and I look back to the tree. Even I can only just make out my leaf-marker. Honest will see it. I know he checks every day. Generous and he think of me, a little after every Rise. I feel a whisper down the buried pack-bond. It wakes me, even if I have released into deep-sleep, only a few degrees previously. I try to keep my mind clear when I hear the whisper. Still Runt and I are not close enough yet for my sleep to always disturb hers, but I don’t want to influence her night-walks any more than necessary. She seems to need very little sleep. Maybe if I let my thoughts drift into her night-walks I would find out what she feels about anything. Stealth-warriors normally have deep and honest bonds. This dog does not have the openness I select for in my recruits. Anything to make her drop her barriers. I need to know if she is for-Pack (before I need to rely on her in an emergency).
We groom each other, because we must, not feeling or sharing, just grooming. We then go to sleep together. She deep-sleeps and I spend cents^ thinking of my pack, fumbling and nuzzling the dwindling-in-strength pack-bond. It will be renewed within moments of returning to my den-pack, as it always has done, but no pack-bond can be maintained with no contact. I nuzzle into Still Runt Set’s flank. I wonder if I will ever know what she feels.