I don’t know when I last slept. Since the pathetic provision I was able to get across, everything has descended. What took over a season last cycle was completed in just over a day of hunger this time. Dogs, already worn out and not yet reacquainted with full bellies and easy sleeping have reverted to scrapping. Dogs are plundering little-wilds that have not yet grown back from their emaciation. Accusations of not-for-Pack behaviour are almost perpetual. In busy areas the mixed scents of adrenaline^, cortisol and abject fear drown out the Leaf-World.

Having set a precedent of dogs being exiled for no real reason, every day there have been demands made by packs for various members to be exiled. There have been screams in the night as packs rip ears from their den-mates or Service-mates convinced they must be hording provision. I know that Leaf-Pack Guider^ Large First Eyes Rise puts the dogs he de-notches through the barrier, but Pack at large doesn’t know we can cross the barrier at all. These dogs de-notched by a mob, not for the safety of Pack but to assuage some-dog’s paranoia, are shunned as though they were de-notched by a Pack-minded, caring, First Eyes looking out for the best for Pack. Where possible, we have made contact with these individuals and made sure they had somewhere to den (we can hardly ensure they are fed). If we ever get across the barrier again, I think Trustworthy might have some new provision-pack-mates. The de-notched are traumatised. One is very angry at the injustice; I can smell his concept of Pack disintegrating. There is nothing to let them feel like dogs for a day. No Service they can offer, even to us QDs^, the only dogs who will acknowledge them.

It doesn’t rip me into pieces like it did before. I cannot be shocked by how a hungry Pack behaves. I am not even shocked by the seeming unresponsiveness of Leaf-Pack Guider Large First Eyes Rise. Still horrified. But a kind of horrified which settles in my bones and feels like a weight I have trained myself to carry.

I know Big Paws First Eyes has returned to the spot where we tore the last few bits of provision we could from the Leaf-World. I smell him when I am there. We couldn’t use this as a breach-point anymore; there is a wide scent path leading to and from it. I drop my scent-mask once I am far enough from EdgeLeafment^ to be safe. Just a few cents of not having to maintain a barrier between myself and the outside world. I walk in a cloud of myself, breathing in my own scent and the ever-present leaves. We do not have long before desperate individuals do unthinkable things. Maybe I don’t need to fight it anymore.

I see the breach-point. What there is to see, is a heap of undistinguished flesh. The provision pack ate one and scavengers have taken what was left. I missed the provision-pack. I have spent time here watching the wild of this world take the provision for Pack, trying to catch Trustworthy. I am not sure what or how we would communicate but I feel like I need to try to tell him what is happening. The next day, there was another ungulate at the next breach-point on the plan but on the next day, there was nothing left by the barrier. I checked every breach-point we have ever used. They know we are not taking the provision. I hope they get to rest.

I know I should be doing everything I can in the stores to help Pack, but I find myself spending more and more degrees^ scanning as far as I can see through the barrier for a sign of a dog Outside. I can’t be on alert anymore.

A shadow passes over me. I can’t smell anything, so it is Outside. I am not sure if my lack of fear comes from knowing there is a barrier between us or because I simply cannot summon the energy to be frightened. A terrifying, huge, black and white bird swoops overhead. They circle, keeping their eyes fixed on me. They then appear distracted by the corpses. I do not need be able to smell it to know it is rancid and should be left. They swoop down and land by a body and start pulling stringy tissue from the chest cavity. They regard me as they eat. I regard them as they eat, more jealous than frightened, even for the dogs on the same side of the barrier as this gargantuan bird. They are about the height of a dog. This could be a former occupant of the nest where we founded the QPG coalition. Their size would make sense. They eventually seem bored and launch, a little clumsily, into the air. They bump into the barrier, leaving a faint outline of feathers. They can’t perceive the barrier either. They awkwardly recover and fly back overhead, circling once. The feather pattern crumbles away over the next few cents^. I transfer my focus onto a small mammal who is trying to swipe away a bone with some scraps of muscle still attached.

I don’t know when it got dark, but I notice I can barely see anything. My eyes are sore from overuse. I will return to Pack soon. I just want to sit here for a few moments. I am thinking about the pack on the Outside, the outcast dogs who will live longer than any of those deemed for-Pack. I hope Pack-Guider Large First Eyes Rise realises what he is doing and thinks about other applications of the Soil he seems so fond of using to remove Pack-members. I hear Broad when I smell him. I have barely felt him since that night. He has been trying every possible option to generate Soil, but even where he has been able to enter strange dens, more often than not, comfort-units already bear the bodge fixes that betray they are already empty of Soil. A few that seemed unopened, where he was able to prise them open enough to smell inside, were also empty. Emptied by a dog careful enough to not betray that the unit had ever been opened. He is exhausted and close to giving up. We both are. Maybe we could Walk together.

He says nothing and leans against me. We watch a flock of different large birds, lacking the eerie sense they are observing us, approach and tear the last few remnants from the bones.

“Any ideas left?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.” We sit in silence for a few moments. “Shiny’s pups died.” I am not surprised.

“I hope she is OK.” Then I chuck a dry brittle bark, “I mean as much as any dog could be OK on this side of the barrier.” He doesn’t even chuck. We sit a few more moments. Without communicating consciously, we both stand and turn to return to whatever brutalities Pack has committed against itself in the last day. I feel somehow freed by acknowledging that there is nothing more we can do. I have served as best any-dog could but now it is not my Service. We begin to pick up pace and I feel energised to do what I can for the outcasts, the wrongfully de-notched and Runts^ who cannot run. Broad drops behind and then stops. I stop too. He speaks, but not to me.

“Bushy, I am bored. Can we just talk like Pack?” A scent-mask is dropped and Bushy slinks from between the trees. My mane prickles and stands erect. Has she found us out?

“I was about to approach. I have something I would like to ask ye about.” Is this QD business or stealth business? Was it a trap? Has she waited this long to spring to ensure it was definitely us? Has she tried to corner us away from Pack?

“Ask.” He is terse and closed. Showing no emotion to me, even through the pack-bond.

“We know what you do. We have always known.” I feel like I have fallen into a fast-moving stream. I will let it take me where it will and destroy me as it chooses.

“No, you haven’t. You have known for exactly two littersworth^ of days.” I can’t keep up with my thoughts or questions as they tumble over each other as I am swirled in the stream.

“I have suspected longer.” Did Slender tell her?

“Yes. I know. You are an excellent stealth-dog, you will get your third scar before you know it. What do you have to say?” She has never told me how many scars (stealth equivalent of notches) she has. She seems flattered. Why does the approval of a QD mean anything to her, even after denning together?

“We have what you need.” My heart stops beating as my nose reaches out to see if she is telling the truth. “Not just Soil, but the means to set up a permanent breach-point and to protect that breach according to Leaf-Pack Guider Large First Eyes Rise’s wishes.” Did I detect a curl of her lip in that? A stealth-dog letting us observe that emotion is either certain of her audience or phenomenally brazen. My mind snaps back from this insignificant observation to what Bushy just said.

“Why not do it openly where Pack could know?” I interrupt this baffling exchange.

“He feels that it is best for-Pack for the provision supply to be preserved without Pack knowing how.” She is obviously not going to give me anything more. “By the way, you had a very slick operation going. It was hard to track you, even once I realised who you were.” This last “you”, directed at Broad. The pack-bond in my stomach wavers. Broad addresses her aurally and me via pack-bond simultaneously.

“Well done. I wondered if Slender had figured it out a while ago.”

( I once served as a stealth-dog. But that is now cycles ago. I have always been a Quarter-dog. )

I can’t summon enough energy to be interested. We can rest. Pack will be fed. That is all that matters. I fall asleep in a forest patch between two stealth-dogs having a conversation I can’t understand.