I wake up early for my sniff^. Swift would wake me (I estimate from the very slight not-dark) in a degree^. I was night-hunting about catching a crow for provision and being attacked by a bee from above and something mysterious coming out of the stream. And I was destroying them all, their limbs fell and their blood mixed as I removed the threat to Pack and they just kept coming. I try to force myself back into sleep. We are actually denning in a natural cave tonight. It feels strange. Not as familiar as I thought it’d be to not be under the sky. It is not a warm dog-dug cave that feels safe and inviting. It is a cold draughty cave that limits our options to respond to any enemies. We have not smelled a whiff of any other individuals (except the occasional waft of Wilful and even more occasionally other miscellaneous Soil-dogs). I still find myself thinking more and more about the enemies of Pack that were here, that we do not understand. The flapper-compound has had fewer interesting artefacts at ground level but Scrawny thinks there are some up in the trees wherever the streaks of guano originated. It too has a surprisingly fresh scent for the grossness that still soils Soil. The more I pass through places stolen from Soil-dogs, the more I think about what I would do to any individual we found. I spend degrees of searching not thinking of Wilful but imagining. What happens if I find a crow round this dead copse? What if I bump into a tortoise? What if I smell a bee? I have considered the best ways to destroy and dispatch each species. I know how to make-prey of an ape and if the others were destroyed by the few Soil-dogs remaining on World they can’t be so tough. Well, sleep isn’t happening again.
I might as well go and groom Swift. It would be nice to have some private pack-time with her. Maybe she’ll tell me something about what keeps her shut. I pull myself from under Scrawny and Silky, transferring Scrawny’s head to Fierce’s haunch and Silky onto Scrawny’s shoulder. I don’t stretch yet, I want to be outside. I emerge into the night. There is no Swift. There is a strong smell of her, any-dog in the den would have no reason to believe she was gone. I put my nose to it. It is cold. Was there some danger? Has she just gone to patrol. She could be investigating a clue of Wilful or even seeing off a forest-hyena^. I stretch and roll into the patch she left. I’ll rest until my sniff is due to begin. If she is not back then, I’ll raise the others and we’ll find her. I occupy myself by identifying the different smells coming from further into The Spit and from towards Pack. I think I can smell some bird-shit nearby. Am I just smelling bees because I think I should be able to? The air certainly doesn’t smell of forests from my puphood. There is a muted^, thin quality from the lack of verdant plant growth and overwhelming rot. The flappers have destroyed the land just as thoroughly as the buzzers did. Was it only the humans who did not ravage Soil? The scent of freshly-turned Soil and plant matter! It smells so bright in the strangely blank night. Then I hear the soft footfalls.
( How long have you been up? ) She asks before she even begins her ascent to the cave mouth.
( How long have you been gone? )
( I heard something big moving not far away, I thought it was moving more precisely than random prey. It was though, just a deer. I hear Wilful every night and end up searching for her. ) That’s plausible. She is scenting as usual. I miss her openness that meant I could not help but trust everything she said. We sit in-Pack with silence. ( I ended up chasing it a little which was stupid, in this cover and on my own. But I found the plant it had been eating and just wanted to smell fresh for a second so had a little rub. ) She feels cheeky and conspiratorial. I want to enjoy that.
( Well you do smell great, but you might have made it harder for us to track Wilful by bringing such a distinctive smell into this area. )
( It’ll dissipate. How come you are awake so early? I thought no-dog needed to know how paranoid I am because I’m always back in time to wake you. ) She seems so exhausted and she is suffering the most clearly for the lack of any decent-sized provision. Only today, she was asking if we could end our day nearer the corridor where there is still growth and thus prey. Silky was set against that, he wanted to make more progress. He said we can provide when we get out of the flapper-compound. He thinks we will find more prey further South. He doesn’t mind a few days without provision but Swift does not have the spare for that.
( I’m not sure. I was having a night-hunt and then I couldn’t return to sleep. )
( Maybe it was when I left, it was not that long ago and possibly I somehow infected your sleep. )
( Yeah that seems likely. ) She snuggles into me and I groom her neck and spots. She seems very tense but I don’t know where to begin. ( If you want, I will take over sniff now, you can get warm with the others. )
( Can I stay with you? )
( Of course, a dog may go where they choose. ) I settle into grooming her coat. She is still relatively tense against me but I try to relax. She seems like she is about to bond-speak. But she doesn’t. I continue to groom. Her ears are hot. She takes a bond-breath again. I hold as still and ready as I can. She lets out the bond-breath and I start on her three notches. I work down her neck I try to reach further but she is not moving. She is asleep. Still as taut as a Pack guided^ by tyranny. I suddenly want to ask her questions about her deer. I haven’t smelled anything larger than a rat, inside the compound for days. When we den close enough to the barrier to dig through and provide in the corridor, is the only times I have noticed any large-bodied prey. How could the deer get through the barrier? Where was that plant that she found? Maybe it would give indication of life being able to recover from the stripping flappers and buzzers gave it. It must be something to do with flying. They must need to remove barriers for themselves. Or this is just how greedy they are? All the plant growth of The Spit was not sufficient to sustain them even a twentieth^.
Questions rattle around as I keep sniff. No sounds of deer or signs of plants. Swift is finally softening into deep-sleep. I shift and groom her back and feel every vertebra as I lick her spine. Maybe she is beginning to perceive things differently because she is so under-nourished.
Silky comes to take the next sniff. Swift is chasing something in her night-hunt and kicking me in my belly.
“The first thing we are doing in the Rise is going to the compound-tunnel and doing some decent provisioning.”
He tilts. He doesn’t question or suggest an alternative. We’ve not been bound much by rank on this hunt but I’m grateful he remembers my notches when I want him to.