The talks are done. She’s told us everything she can think to tell us. Despite what’s happening to her, she is still trying to care for us. She could not be more in-Pack. And yet Pack did this to her. Some of the more paranoid things she’s said, I’m assuming to be a product of her state. But it is certain that, knowing there was a risk, our pack was sent into the bee-compound a tenth-season^ after Wilderness gas was used and had been unable to disperse. I still think that All-Pack Guider^ No Eyes First Eyes Runt^ Rise couldn’t have known the risk. Even without her individual interest in us, I cannot believe she would send any unknowing dog into that situation.

“Do you remember when we found Soil’s Gift up at The Tails?” Swift’s not able to talk loudly but she is still trying to jolly us on. While she can.

“Yeah, and then were terribly not-for-Pack and used our bodies for Heat pleasure with no thought of whelping.” Fierce is too eager to join in with the jollying. I don’t think she believes it yet. I don’t, not really.

“I got to be selfish and get spoiled by ye both.” Swift remembers warmly, “Even if I never got to swell, I got to be thoroughly fucked.” Oh Soil, there will be none of her left. Our pups were of course all of ours but they all smell strongly of me or Fierce. Who will I smell when I need to remember the best dog who was ever whelped?

“I wish we had a Heat-dose, if that would be something you wanted to enjoy one more time.” As I say it, it feels gross and inappropriate to offer this husk of a dog something so earthy^ and full of life.

“I appreciate the idea and did consider getting one in case I got a chance to enjoy it again but I fear I don’t have the strength for even the most gentle mounting now.” She is still looking after me. I hate myself. I don’t deserve a single notch if I cannot guide my pack through a natural occurrence like one Walking. The Set is turning to night, the hunting degree^ is over and we have provided the most and finest things we can find for Swift, plenty of stoats^. We have eaten and leave the rest un-cached in case Swift wants anything else. She breathes deeply of the Set and continues in a much more wistful tone “I think that was my last Set. Let’s smell if I get one more Rise.” Then much quieter, “I wish I could smell it though.” Scrawny, who has been almost silent for days perks up a little,

“It might not be the same but I can describe the scent of this Set for you. I have definitely got the training to help with that.”

“That would be lovely.” All our bodies are curved round Swift’s chilly, skinny body. Scrawny raises his nose to the air and sniffs in each direction then begins,

“So, to the Set is the big-saltwater. It smells fresh with wind coming from the Set Continent, smelling of pine and dense trees as a tickle over the usual smells of saltwater, fish, waterweed and photosynthesis.” She relaxes into our bodies, letting herself take the offered warmth. “Then as you go from Set to North, you can smell that there is an area of sand, there is some waterweed rotting on the sand, there are provision animals aplenty in the dunes including a sandsnake, dune mice, a sizeable scorpion trying to replenish its poison. There is an owl hunting above them, the mice are frightened.” She sighs and relaxes. She interrupts to ask us,

“Can ye stay awake with me? If I do get to experience another Rise, I would like to share it.”

“Of course.”

“And tomorrow night as well if you want it.” She is gentle in her reply,

“Yes, if I need it. Sorry Scrawny what is to the North of the dune?”

“As you swing round you get a wave of forest, rich and earthy, cool leaves decomposing beneath mature oak. There are deer not too close…”

After we did an imagined scent-tour of the area (which blew my mind at the things he could smell that I had no idea were there), we told scent-stories of our times in puphood, creche, academy and our time as pack. We mostly knew most of each other’s stories. Swift did not feel inclined to tell, so we each told our favourite of her stories. She chucked every time one of us managed to imitate her intonation perfectly. Then we wanted to play some games but all of them required more scent ability than Swift has left. We started to invent a game of listening for specific creatures and responding with different gestures but this resulted in Fierce and Scrawny having a surprisingly heated disagreement about what kind of rodent we heard. They resolved it much less smoothly with Swift observing, no longer soothing tensions, like grooming stray hairs into a coat. We then thought Swift might be trying to rest so have tried to keep quieter. Fierce and Scrawny continued to play their new game in stubborn silence for enough cents^ for Swift to join in once or twice.

I think it is possible that Scrawny may have fallen asleep. I do not think Fierce has. I am watching Swift’s eyelids droop and come open again. If she is to stand a chance of another day, she must sleep, but every time I see them close I panic I will never see them open again. I want to shake her and wake her, tell her to fight it and I want to let her sleep and be at peace, even if she never wakes. She mutters,

“I know you’re a good guider Strong First Eyes. You’re good at knowing when to let your Pack take on duties. Don’t forget that. I know you will want to guide but that means letting another dog take First Eyes if you cannot.” I feel outraged at her suggestion. What do you care what I do, you’ll be gone. I feel disgusted at myself for that thought and mumble thanks. “I’m going to try to rest. If this is it, farewell Strong First Eyes, farewell Fierce and farewell Scrawny. Ye are the best dogs I met and I am proud to have been notched with ye. And if you smell Silky again, give him a scar that isn’t for rank.” Fierce tucks her chin on Swift’s back, presumably to both be close and to be able to hear her life within.

“You are the kindest dog I have ever met and you served Pack in more ways than it will ever know. I am proud to have whelped with you and served with you and shared Heat and chucks and stories. I have heard what you have told us and I will take action when I know how.” Fierce sounds exhausted and furious. What kind of action will she take? What will I have to do? I can’t think about that right now. Swift deserves every thought I have.

“You are my Soil and World. I will forever be a better dog for the guidership you did from my side. You smell like Pack to me.” She scents a tiny puff of happiness and puts her chin on Scrawny’s sleeping flank.

Fierce’s breathing is already (even if it has been at least a degree) levelling. She enters sleep.

“I am not going to sleep my Soil and World.” I rest my head on her chest until I am sure she is breathing.

“I’m not gone yet. I was hoping I would be able to go to sleep and not know but it seems like I have had that choice stolen with my scent and health.”

“Well you won’t be alone.” I can’t find a way to express how confused I am that force of will cannot keep her with us.

“No. Thank you Strong First Eyes.” I listen to her ragged, slow breathing. I feel her chest raise and lower. I can’t accept that it might not do that one day. Most likely the next day. This is the only thing I can do to show her that she is Pack.

I start awake. Oh shit, shit, shit^. How did that happen? It is at least a degree from Rise and it was already several degrees past nadir. It may have only been a few moments. I put my chin back on Swift’s chest. I don’t have to wait for it not to move to feel the chill of a body, not a dog. It was not a few moments. Did she manage to sneak away while she slept or was she alone as I promised her she wouldn’t be? I don’t know what to do. Emotions are crushing me from every side. I tuck my nose back into the nook between Scrawny and the corpse that was my bond-mate and return to sleep.