For the first time in over an eighth^, I have no idea where we can get Soil from to cross tonight. We have used so many different methods to keep the supply coming. When the first dog was de-notched and exiled for attending a Soil-roll that option became much riskier. Fewer dogs are risking it. I am sure there are still rolls happening, however finding out about them is hard, even for Broad, and strange dogs can no longer pass in and out of them with ease. Leaf-Pack Guider^ Large First Eyes Rise, has made up for a slow response to the lack of provision by more un-notchings in the last half-season than any-dog has heard of in a lifetime.

The run-rigs are effective. The QD^ roller-Pack were invaluable for collecting Soil when dogs were more careless with it. But, as with Soil-rolls, they have had limited use now dogs are afraid to be smelled with a speck of Soil on them. They have become a strong pack. They could serve Pack in so many ways. They barely get to. They are becoming good QDs and fabricators of various kinds. But their part of this mission is over for now.

The last real access to Soil is the least sure but, now, the most likely to serve. It started with our pack but now could be any-dog from EdgeLeafment^. Most dogs do not question that QDs keep bringing in provision from an unsmelled provision-pack. It’s hardly unusual for provision-packs to go on long-trips and leave caches for QDs. Some dogs, however, seem to notice something off about it. A few dogs have come to probe me or Broad about provision when we’re resting at zenith. I don’t know how they glean it. The subtle clues the Q-pack had are not apparent to an untrained dog. Broad thinks we should not use the help these individuals inevitably, eventually offer. Without them, we would be in an even worse situation for Soil than we are. The carefully sealed and dug caches for which we receive anonymous scent-maps, represent dogs choosing to make a sacrifice for the good of Pack. It is Pack at its best. If we could do this publicly, every-dog would volunteer what they had, and we could establish some efficient way to use it. The subterfuge is the problem. Constantly having to move the breach-point. Having to conceal Soil for transport or storage. Using so much of it and whatever property it has that opens up the Leaf-World to us, in name of secrecy, is what is causing so much waste.

Even those who do figure out we are somehow using Soil to get provision, don’t suspect that, instead of a provision-pack, there is one provision-pack guider whose pack turned on him and two de-notched dogs providing for three whole settlements. As well as, Gentle and Trustworthy we also have Sturdy who was de-notched and exiled for denning with a dog who was at a Soil-roll. He was a warrior by Service. I have no idea if he had notches before he was de-notched, but he strikes me as an obedient but not exceptional dog who could have lived a life-time without being notched. He is an asset to the provision-pack of three. He has strength and stamina that Gentle was never trained for and is younger than Trustworthy and has only had a sixteenth of serving every degree^ possible for a Pack that will never recognise his contribution.

I ache, soul and stomach. I am sick of this constant sneaking about. Even with the whole Quarter-pack in on it, the QPG coalition and the provision-“pack”, there are more dogs in my life I have to conceal in front of than not. I am not a naturally sneaky dog; I have always felt that the key to being a good QD is openness. I have barely done normal QD Service. I feel an urge to be in the earth, even if it isn’t Soil. Maybe, particularly because it isn’t Soil. I go down into the stores to establish what else I should be worrying about today. The dimming^ of the leaf-smell and the cortisol^ that doesn’t seem to come from any one dog but Pack with one endocrine system, lets me relax my nose. I don’t need to scan for Soil or block out noxious scents. I breathe in deeply, drawing each scent over my nose gently like a bond-mate. Nitrogen. Plant life. Insect life. Decay. Warm, rich, moist, comforting earth, simple and demanding nothing from me.

I hear a dog approaching. I do not raise my nose to find out who is coming. I leave it full of simple, clean beauty and use my ears. They are a young individual, energetic easy strides. It is not Broad – he still catches on the walls of the tunnel despite us all saying we will get a digger in to expand it. They are cautious, smelling a dog in here that is not greeting them they slow and take a deep smell of the situation. They then relax and stroll in confidently. I am pretty sure it must be Bushy when I raise my head and smell Slender. I have had my pack-barriers up so tight I didn’t notice my den-pack approaching. Anything in Service of Pack but Pack should be for every-dog by every-dog. If we destroy ourselves to save Pack, has Pack been saved?

He scents concern.

“How are you doing? You do not smell well.”

“I am not doing well. I am sure you know why but I will not tell you about it.”

“I have an idea. I will not ask. But if there is anything I can do to ease your time not spent doing things I must not know of, then do not hesitate to tell me.”

“I feel like being just a QPG for a degree. DQPG Slender, will you come with me to inspect the stores? I have been remiss in my stock-taking and am unfamiliar with my own store.” He is enough of a QD by now to know the great shame I am admitting to. He effortlessly becomes my DQPG.

“Of course. I have a report from the provision transfer today too.” He goes to the whelp-store first, I follow.

“Unsurprising, there has not been call for Heat-doses this season, but I would like to replenish these whelping supplies since the ban on swelling has been lifted. There are now a few dogs swelling, let’s make sure the pups get the best start. Oh, that reminds me, it might be worth us trying to make some mini-run-rigs. We have become experts and I am sure Masculine and Mellow would be able to make something smaller.”

“Certainly, if we have more Runts-who-cannot-run^, it would be for-Pack if they could get run-rigs as young as possible.” QD chat flows seamlessly between us and I feel like myself. “I will get a pack together to look for smaller rollers. I will let the other two figure out the mechanics, not really my area” We chuckle. He has many skills; fabrication is simply not one of them.

We continue through the general medical stores, the Runt-store and are looking over the empty weapons store. It has been over a third since I checked some of the more remote weapons stores. I have been foolishly lax. There are more ways that a Pack can Walk than starvation.

I am going to get those things checked this twentieth. If Soil becomes harder to get, provision will be an issue soon enough. That’s the point at which it would be useful to know that all our weapons-caches are still full. I am about to tell Slender to set aside some dogs to do that over the next few nights when Big Paws First Eyes comes ambling in, shuffling his weight between his feet. He looks to me intensely and I realise he must have some news about Soil. That is the only thing he would not discuss freely in front of Slender. Slender notices and, as if my bond-mate, suggests we put together a pack to check on the hidden caches. He asks Big Paws First Eyes to finish the tour with me and leaves to “organise a fabricating-pack”.

( Thank you, my spots. Sorry. )

( Please do not mention it. ) His thoughts feel wry, but I still feel the deep layer of fear beneath. Then I remember that is not a product of my observation skills, he chose to let me feel that – he is a stealth-dog, he can do things with pack-bonds that I don’t even know can happen. I feel the uneasiness returning. Who can be trusted?

Once we are alone Big Paws First Eyes splutters out his message,

“There is a donation. We have been left a scent-map. It is in a precarious spot. If we are not prompt it will be found. It might have already been found. I cannot find Broad; he has taken all the sealable Soil-caches!”

“He has gone to find some Soil so every-dog can eat tomorrow. Where is it and when was the map found?”

“It is over by the creche. Not far enough outside of the creche area to say with any certainty that there are not already pups covered in it! The map was dropped by a running dog a few cents^ ago. I don’t think this dog has the skills to do this safely.”

“Fine, we will go now. Grab some cache-pouches and anything that we can seal. Do we have any indication of the amount we are talking about?”

“None,” he dashes off. I reach out in the pack-bond and find Slender, walking from store to store looking for QDs and no sign of Broad. I hope he is safe. We might be about to get caught. It is a few degrees shy of the Set hunting-degree. We can’t wait if this is as clumsily done as it seems. If it is found, it might not lead any-dog straight to us, but it is letting the stealth-dogs know that there are buried caches to be found.

The high-pitched whining smell of leaves re-enters and taints my consciousness. Big Paws First Eyes throws me a cache-pouch and I sling it as we make a concerted effort to walk at a reasonable pace. Like busy QDs going to fetch important supplies, which I guess is exactly what we are doing. Just these supplies might get us de-notched. We get to the creche area and do not walk directly to the spot but investigate some bushes, as though we might find useful leaves in these scraggly growths. I can smell the earth that was turned in the last degree over the leaf-scent. I even think I can smell a little Soil which does not bode well for the stealth of our benefactor. We approach the patch, scent-masked and dig as though we are looking for roots. At least the donor dug in a bare spot between several bushes; we won’t be easily observed, assuming no creche-trip is scheduled!

Less than a pawswidth of earth is removed when the scent of Soil bursts forth. The donor had packed it in a thin piece of hide and so shallow that we had not considered being careful yet. We were in too much of a rush. The amount is tiny, but with no additional barrier we have nothing in our cache-pouches that would carry this safely without being a scent-beacon to every dog for a day^ in every direction.

“What do we do?” his scent-mask is dropping, and his panic is mixing with the Soil. What would Broad do? He can make a decision quickly in a stressful situation. It barely seems worth it to try and get this Soil, but it cannot be left here. It is not even two mouthfuls.

I know what Broad would do.

“We need to carry it in our mouths. Close our nostrils if anyone is coming by and go straight to a secure cache.” He doesn’t even have time to scent his confusion before I have a mouthful of Soil and soil. He grabs the rest. We each use our teeth to scrape any semblance of Soil from the ground. The scrap of hide is in my mouth. It clings to the roof of my mouth and makes me want to gag. My mouth is full. Shit!^ This is not just a bold move! It is reckless! Just keep going.

I thought I had become immune to the intense pleasure of Soil by creating new associations with it. I am not. Having my whole mouth coated in a film of Soil, while trying to keep it as dry as possible, is like being on World. I feel connected to every-dog who has ever done anything for Pack. To the first First Eyes. To World. It is heady and intense. I worry I may faint. The fear beats the ecstasy into submission. I am able to walk.

I raise my head and realise what we have to do next. I take a deep breath through my nose, drawing the scent of Soil into my lungs. I want to roll. I want to have Heat. I want to eat the heart of a large ungulate while it is steaming. I want to be a Soil-dog the most I can. I want to serve Soil. I realise I need to close my nose. The fewer breaths the better. When I close my nostrils the pressure inside my mouth feels overpowering. Carrying Soil, who always loved dogs feels earthy^. A Soil parent should do this. They understand Soil. I see Big Paws First Eyes struggling with similar emotions. I cannot smell either of us now I have closed my nostrils and have nothing but Soil. We walk, trying to seem like normal dogs but doing the most overwhelming thing I have ever done to my senses.

We do not rush. We cannot rush. We are being drawn back to the ground where Soil wants to be. Soil wants to help dogs. I could Walk now and I would never have to worry for Pack again. I am aware of how empty our cache-pouches so obviously are. Where are we hypothetically going? There are a few dogs more in EdgeLeafment now, heading towards feeding spots. We are drawn along amongst them, with no idea how suspicious we smell. I take a gentle, shallow breath and close my nostrils again. I notice the dog to my Rise-North nose twitches. I hope I don’t smell too alarmed to those around me. Over the rushing of blood in my ears, I hear Big Paws First Eyes’s nostrils closing. Another nose twitch from another dog. Every dog is on high alert for the smell of Soil.

I cut across the stream of dogs and start to walk on the far side of the trail, then at least we will each be making different dogs suspicious. The two dogs who have definitely smelled something are beginning to subtly sniff those round them. What if this is a trap? It seems likely it is, getting us to rush out unprepared into a high stress situation. I start to glance at every-dog as a potential stealth-dog. A dog sidles up to me. A digger for whom I have been some patient ears when she and her mate-bonded were first on Heat. She is currently swelling.

“Hello Brave, I was wondering if I could ask some advice from you.” I can say nothing but tilt my head to show I am interested, sneaking a tiny breath. Her nose, sensitive in swelling moves but she does not register any confusion or suspicion. “I am worried about the pups. They seem less active than they were. Have I done something wrong? Fretful and I want to serve Pack. We missed out the first chances to swell but we are now. Did I wait too long?” My soul breaks for her. It is a common worry for those who have first pups after 10. I have so many words to comfort her, but I cannot say a single one. Neither can I express anything clearly without my words. How would a stealth-dog get out of this?

“Don’t worry, Shiny. You and Fretful are serving Pack and Pack is grateful.” Broad appeared as if from no-where.

( You saved us! )

( We don’t know that yet. ) “The pups being still is more of an issue. How long has this been happening?”

“Since last Set. I only noticed properly this Rise. Did I leave it too late?” I let him deal with her anxiety while my senses swirl round the Soil I carry. I have had enough litters to serve Pack, but this feels like the most important thing I have ever carried. I feel like I have hormonal insight. Despite my best efforts, I have a paste of Soil beginning to trickle to the back of my mouth. I tilt my head forward and the mixture of dry Soil and Soil/saliva mud hits the back of my teeth. I try not to cough. The dry Soil forms a dust cloud in my mouth, and I need to cough. I close my throat.

“Brave, would you be able to grab the swelling stores and bringing them to Shiny’s feeding spot?” I tilt and run at a speed I would normally run (I think) towards the stores.

( I can’t go there but I will make sure you are met. Can you send Big Paws First Eyes too? )

“Big Paws First Eyes, what are you doing over there? I need some swelling supplies fetched immediately. You might need to go to see Even to get the meds I need for Shiny. Go confer with Brave and she’ll tell you what I need” Big Paws First Eyes sets off after me. His legs are shorter than mine (he is not very tall) so I have to artificially shorten my pace for him to catch me. I lead him to the store. Thankfully Slender is out the front supervising provision being distributed to feeding spots. He has already cut back portions a small amount. Most dogs wouldn’t normally notice but I think, Pack having been hungry for a season, we will hear about it this Set.

( I cannot explain why and I am sorry to ask, but I need you to organise some of the chews that start whelping and get them to the feeding spot by the den-complex Shiny Rise and Fretful Set use. I am taking Big Paws First Eyes with me now. ) His concern for Shiny Rise betrays his inner QD. He dashes straight to it without a word in the pack-bond. I turn back to Big Paws First Eyes and we run. I try to focus on the mission as a trickle of Soil mud reaches the back of my throat. I feel like I have a pack-bond with Soil and World for a heartbeat. I run harder.

None of the QDs except me and Broad have actually been to a transfer. Big Paws First Eyes, like the rest of the Q-pack knows we need Soil but none of them have been told how it is involved. The only dogs who know how Soil helps Pack are me, Broad and three dogs on the outside of the barrier. The QPG coalition is equally uninformed of the mechanics. We have not got a fall back if we are captured. Rough First Eyes probably has a reasonable idea. We approach the current breach-point. I consider how I could leave something to guide her in the process if we get caught. Broad I think would be safe for now, but who knows, if this is a trap then he has been implicated. I hope Slender has not.

I see some decent-sized ungulates. Bigger than they have previously brought down. I spit whatever Soil I can onto the ground, Big Paws First Eyes does too. It is not enough to cover the hide-covers. It is not enough to cover the provision. It is not even enough to cover one of us.

“Groom any Soil left in my mouth onto my face a head.” The paste fills my eyebrows and fur on my muzzle. My face feels stiff. There is no sign of any dog on either side of the barrier. I have no idea if this is our last chance. Anything we can do now will help Pack.

I scoop up as much Soil as I can and lean my head through the barrier to the piled provision. I grab a limb and close my mouth round it and haul it through the barrier. Big Paws First Eyes, not understanding how it operates grabs the available foot and pulls hard. He rips the hoof from the leg and falls back. I reach through again and pull the next bit I can through. As the limb gets wider, I lick a little Soil mud onto the part I cannot contain in my mouth.

This way we get two limbs through the barrier before I run out of Soil mud in my mouth. My head still seems to be pasted enough to pass through so I just start tearing chunks of flesh that I can hold in my mouth off the carcass and spitting it onto the ground at Big Paws First Eyes’s feet. Eventually I run out of provision I can reach without more Soil to coat my shoulders. I turn to Big Paws First Eyes; he smells and looks horrified. I must smell deranged. The amount of provision we have brought across would only feed our den-complex for one feed. EdgeLeafment will be hungry tomorrow while this provision goes to waste. Hopefully Broad will find Soil to get the rest over. This whole endeavour has been risky and impulsive. Broad would not approve of my reckless and trusting behaviour.

( No, I would not. ) Broad approaches, I think for a moment he has Soil, but he smells so defeated I know he does not.

“Well done both of you. It was risky and you were incredibly fortunate to get away with it. But, seeing as I have failed to provide any Soil, you have managed to get the only provision through. Can we use the last of your beautiful smelling head coating to leave a message for Trustworthy that we cannot bring it across?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t get any scent organs through. I will lick where I can, maybe if he can smell that I was here he’ll be able to figure out the rest.” I lean through and groom a patch of grass like it is a still-born pup I can revive. I hope that is enough.

We pack what provision we have into cache-pouches and fling it onto a roller-cache. Big Paws First Eyes seems subdued. I guess the reality of how small and precarious this operation is that feeds most dogs in three settlements, might be frightening. I feel for him. For every-dog who knows enough to think we have control of the situation but not enough to know how ad hoc the process is and how dictated by luck. They think we are safer than we are. Well, tomorrow we will be in trouble. He sits looking at the provision that can be seen but not smelled or tasted as Broad uses our well-practised techniques to get Soil from me. When I am free, I roll in a patch of smelly leaves. It sickens me to have to replace the smell of Soil with the toxic smell of this world.

We turn back in silence. Broad is obviously thinking how we can get more Soil. I am thinking about what atrocities will be committed in the days to come. I think Big Paws First Eyes is just thinking about provision. He glanced back several times. I have stopped noticing how strange it is to not be able to smell provision I can see. I can feel the provision sinking into nothingness while Big Paws First Eyes watches.