The roll-pack spread out as though searching for plants. They do a good approximation of tracking specific scents, stopping for a closer smell on the odd plant. They know as well as the rest of us that we cannot let this appear to be anything other than an exploratory pack-trip to collect potentially medicinal plants. We decided to be as honest as we could with Bushy. We told her we were trying to find more clot-moss (which has been stripped from around all three settlements - only partially by actual Pack-use) as well as seeking for some kind of Heat-inducing plant. She was too busy to try to detour us to another area. Possibly she doesn’t consider we could be concealing anything from her now we co-operate in one regard, which seems very naïve for a dog so in awe of “Brazen Set”.
Rough First Eyes and I are guiding^ the rumbling group to the nearest reported warning wall but not in the most linear way. I collect a few random samples as Two-Legs Runt^ calls over Jaunty Runt to smell something she has found. I'm trying to collect unique smelling things so at least Masculine and Furtive have a chance of getting something worthwhile out of today. I wonder if, in a day, I will feel about this moment the way I feel about when provision first became scarce, now. What would result in this twisted Pack guidership digging warning walls? Nothing good. Eager Runt and Spikey Runt call me over to smell something.
“Brave, I think we’re getting close to the warning walls. The earth has been turned here to a level that must be dog-dug.” I continue to be impressed by the nasal acuity of those who were whelped on Leaf World. Although it doesn’t strike me as hard as it used to, my nose-range has diminished significantly. I can barely smell any turned soil ahead.
“Thank you Spikey Runt, you should be a scent scientist!”
“I have Pack where I am.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to deprive any-dog of Pack,” especially ones so deprived by Pack, “and we’re thrilled you serve with us, but I do not want ye to be stuck with these old dogs if ye might have another Service.”
“This is where Pack wants us. That’s clear.” Eager Runt says without hesitation. They are so young, not even a cycle. (I think, I do not understand Leaf World’s cycles yet. Exactly, how old are they? Are their lives measured in cycles of this world or a true-World cycle?) But not even a cycle old by any measure and so jaded about Pack. More jaded than many adult dogs, even on Leaf World. “We serve Pack by letting it forget us.” No-dog should speak like this? What’s happened? Is any of the struggle worth it if what it is to be a dog is forgotten?
“Well as one who serves with ye, I am glad that ye have not forgotten Pack.” I pretend to spot something a bit further down and we travel to it together. “I can definitely smell it now. We will split up again, no need to change behaviour just because we are close.”
They rattle off. I observe them for a moment. I feel my own teeth clash as Eager Runt’s roller bounces off an exposed root, but he hardly notices. They are not Soil-dogs anymore. They are something different. They have different culture and a different knowledge of Pack. What are they? I continue the line I was taking away from the pack but curving slightly away from the warning walls. I smell some genuinely interesting plant over the Leaves. I halt to sniff it out. It is directly below me. I had almost passed it by. This is the first thing that smells anything like a Heat influencing plant. I don’t think we should be encouraging Heat right now but we may reach a point where we wish we had the option. It has tiny leaves in spines; the leaves are fat and tight. Extracting anything from this should be much easier than the crispy Leaves were. I take a small sample to keep this patch growing and spreading. I drop it into my cache pouch and shake gently to encourage the heavy stem to the bottom of my samples. This is the only one I really want to get back to stores and I have no idea what’s going to happen next. I can always come back if it is lost… and it is safe to do so. Why do I have so much dread? Even if the warning walls were dug to keep Pack away from something even more horrific than what we have already experienced, it’s unlikely to be immediately on the other side.
We need to find the span of this warning wall to get an idea of where potential danger might be. Jaunty Runt and Two-Legs Runt are trundling behind me. Following but seemingly by coincidence.
( I’ll take these two this way to the end of the warning wall and return. ) Rough First Eyes was already travelling in the opposite direction, but she clarifies,
( I’ll go the other way. ) We subtly pass along the information to our respective packs. I shift my focus to snuffling round and leaving big wide scent-paths like I have not a care in my stomach.
The warning walls are impressive. How any-dog got a starving pack to do the Service is a mystery. Pack must fear what’s on the other side. These are less warning walls and more like barrier walls. I was never very interested in the history of digging and just got through practical digging but I think these walls are being used as ancient dogs used them - to keep dogs from going where they choose. We cannot find an end in either direction for several degrees^ from where we started. It turns out Rough First Eyes and I got creeped out and turned back at almost the same time, a degree after zenith. We arrived back where we separated, just trotting, not feigning looking at plants anymore, within a cent^ of each other. We’re not really sure what’s the most prudent choice now.
“Well, it is hardly going anywhere, that much soil can’t be moved, that’s the point of it.” Eager Runt is called by den, but Jaunty Runt and Two-Legs Runt are feeling more adventurous,
“Yeah, but what kind of excuse can we come up with to be so easily able to approach? This is our best opportunity to find out before Pack gets scent of it.” She thinks both like a stealth-dog and a not-dog. How can Pack be the enemy? Pack’s what life is all about! “It is getting late, at the end of the hunting degree Broad or some-dog will come looking for us. We have until then to find out everything we can.”
“What do you think, Rough First Eyes?” I ask.
“I think Jaunty Runt is right. We have a unique opportunity right now to find out something that at least will let us prepare the next exploration with more information. A dog may go where they choose so no-dog is obliged to come now. In fact, if Eager Runt wanted to go back to Pack, he could explain to Broad what we are up to and keep our absence quiet for a little longer.” Eager Runt is bristling slightly. He wants to prove he’s as dedicated and can match their stamina, but he is tired. I give him a more acceptable out.
“In fact, Eager Runt, I think that would be very useful. Could you serve Pack by taking a message to Broad and get it passed to the rest of the QPG^ coalition? That will buy us a bit longer. If we are not in contact by nadir, something has gone wrong.” He agrees more readily when he knows his Service might be different but still valuable. Spikey Runt decides to remain. Eager Runt rattles off, back to Pack with his important message. I am not happy about the distance he will be travelling without a pack, but he shows no fear, just a grim determination to get his message through. “So, we are going to try and get over?”
“I guess that’s the only option. We definitely can’t safely go through or under.” Rough First Eyes has an edge to her voice that I have not heard before. She shares my fears of what we might find on the other side of this dog-made barrier
“There it is.” Spikey Runt indicates the “climbing tree” they found earlier. A warrior or provider could climb it. Can two QPGs who haven’t climbed anything difficult in a littersworth^ of cycles manage it? Because certainly the roller-pack won’t be able to. Rough First Eyes and I do not need to pack-communicate to know we are thinking the same thing. She takes a run up and manages to get her rear claws hooked into the pitted bark and reach a branch. I see her shoulder muscles tense and creak forward to get her far enough to scrabble the rest of the way up over it. She leaps to the next, which is an easy bound after the first. I can make it. I charge. Rough bark slips under my feet, my claws do not engage. I tumble down, feeling immeasurably old and unfit.
“Your just need to get your claws in the bark.” I know little pup! If I could do it I would! But I know this is kindness from a pup who can probably see how to do this even if their bodies will not be able to do it. I shake myself. I charge again. I make a good push off the ground and sink my claws into the bark. I drag myself up to the branch. I catch a glimpse of the three roll-dogs moving back. They had come to give me a boost if I had slipped. It makes me chuck at myself, they are just trying to help the old dog! Rough First Eyes is up to level with the top of the wall and is manoeuvring a large, sturdy branch to me.
“You can pull them up?” I lower it to the rollers. Jaunty Runt grabs it with her teeth. We drag her. She weighs so little, even with her roller but she is all muscle. We adjust grips and get her to the wide branch. She sprawls across it.
“I can jump to where you are, put the stick to the Rise so my roller can’t roll off” We do as she says. She cleanly leaps the tailslength to the branch we are on, that hangs over the wall. We drag the stick to give her roller a set of parallel surfaces. She trundles across to the wide top of the wall. I turn back for the rest. The other two do not have as strong jaws or backs as she. I am conscious of not wasting the precious time we have for this mission. Before I mention it, Jaunty Runt says,
“They’re going to stay, obscure our scent-trails with their rollers, and be there to receive any-dog that comes. That is their Service now.” The tone she uses suggests they have had extensive pack-communications about protocol in times like these. Was I just patronising Eager Runt? They have already spoken about this. Of course they have.
“Thank them for us both.” Rough First Eyes mutters. Then focuses herself on the task we’re here for. She sniffs. I sniff. I smell nothing untoward. Leaves, earth, the undergrowth we have disturbed, the branch we used.
“Nothing unusual.” Rough First Eyes clicks her agreement. Jaunty Runt, finished her bond-communication, sniffs.
“A stressed dog passed this way in the last two days.” A stone falls in my stomach. We cannot get down from here; it is even more difficult architecture on the other side of the wall. The top seems to overhang a little. From the ground you couldn’t climb it and any trees or stones that could have served have been cleared.
We walk along the wall. We keep walking. The only sounds Jaunty Runt’s roller quietly creaking and her taking long expansive sniffs of information.
“Another whisp! I think this is the right way” We keep sneaking along. I am trying to get a whiff of anything that would inform me about what this dog is experiencing. How will we rescue them? What do they need rescuing from? Could they be safe until we could return with some decent cured vines?
A broken howl. Every hair stands on end. It diminishes away into whimpers and cries. We break into as fast a trot as is safe to maintain. We know our direction. I feel my pulse in every muscle as we approach. The muffled panting and smell of hot dogs is all my desperate ears and nose can reach. Oh no. I can smell him.
He is a dog. He was a dog. Now he is made-runt and dying. He does not want to Walk. He is terrified. He doesn’t understand what is happening. We call to him. He does not appear to be able to hear even his own cries. We scent Pack as much as we can. He goes still. We hear him sniff. He begins howling, screaming, pawing at the wall and throwing himself against it. He can barely smell but he knows his chances of Pack are near. His panic passes into my stomach and I howl for not being able to help him. Rough First Eyes is more level; she starts searching for something to haul him up. The branch we used before is a long way back and hard to carry. We are trying to find something. Jaunty Runt whispers,
“It’s too late.” I try to formulate the question. The howling becomes a gurgling. I smell hot organs and hungry Pack. The question dies in my jaws. We lie flat and scent-mask. We hear what I wish I couldn’t identify as dogs eating a made-runt while he is alive. I want to stop them. The screams stop abruptly. Our tiny pack shares a wave of nausea. I want to stop everything. But I would risk this pack for no reason. I’m certain they couldn’t reach us from down there but no reason to give these runt-makers motivation to get out. The sickening sound of tearing flesh and ripping skin are diminished. The dogs below are full and begin growling at each other. There is a brief fight. A yip pierces the night and the sound of fighting into the undergrowth. They are not a pack. Not even with each other. I feel sick. I’m actually glad of how little provision I have had for once.
( I don’t think I’ll be ever able to be truly in-Pack again. I didn’t think any dog could ever do that. ) Rough First Eyes is angry. Has she been angry since her Lopsided Runt went to creche for a day? I envy her anger, it is powerful. More powerful than the sadness that makes me Runt.
“Even if Large First Eyes Rise is a not-for-Pack in most things, I think he was right in getting this wall dug.” Jaunty Runt sounds resigned. It seems like the horrific event she just witnessed is what she would expect from Pack. I hope any Pack on any world is doing well enough… that this isn’t all that’s left. She turns precariously and returns to where we will have to clamber down the spindly leaning tree.
Broad is waiting for us.
“I heard a howling like nothing I’ve heard before and then heard Brave’s voice in it. I sprinted here. By then, all was silence so I gave ye a few cents to appear before I came for ye. If ye had Walked already, it would be better for me not to dive into the same danger. As I was going to set off, I felt ye coming” I am touched by his fear for my wellbeing while being slightly hurt by his circumspect approach.
“We’ll explain when we’re all on the ground.” My voice sounds very stable and not how I feel. We use the branch. With three to anchor pivots and to apply pressure, we quickly are ready to lower her. Her strong jaw is just as clamped on the branch. I can’t detect a tremor in her. Maybe my own are masking it. She lets go a little above the ground sending us tumbling in the canopy. She approaches her pack to groom. So, she is not completely unaffected by what we witnessed.
( I will not ask ye what happened (I know the scent of trauma when I smell it), but can we say that the warning wall is there for a reason? )
( It’s not a warning wall. It is a barrier. It is the most runt-making thing I have ever smelled. ) Rough First Eyes is roiling with fury
( But, yes. It is to hide that we’re not the dogs most let down by Leaf-Pack Guider. )