Sarge, Dead!

By Rebekah Booth

Master’s command settles fast into my bones and my heart sings. The fur on my belly scrapes the mossy ground as I shoot through the undergrowth like a rocket. I can smell blood in the air, a trail I will follow to the inch. Autumn has settled into the woods, and Master has found game. 

I lose sight of my Master quickly, swallowed by the dense trees. The stink of wet earth and rot fight to overpower the tang of iron. I skid to a stop and raise my proud nose to the breeze, thinking hard to divide blood from nature. Its scent is rich, robust on the back of my tongue, with the slightest hint of gunpowder. West West West. I pause one moment longer for good measure and find my way again.

My weathered paws devour the forest floor, propelling me further into sun-dappled foliage. My great lungs heave with each gulping breath. I am getting closer, and the blood-scent grows stronger, this time with a note of blackberry. Duck, not dove, not turkey or deer or fox. I know because ducks like blackberries, and their blood is the only one that smells of Master’s favorite red water. 

I follow the trail deep, deep into the woods. I can no longer hear my Master’s footsteps or his thunderous voice, but I know he is behind me. He is not as quick as I am on his two legs. He will find me once I find the game. We have done this so many times, since I was small. 

I slow to a trot as the scent of duck’s blood grows strong. I take my time to root through the bushes and downed logs to locate its body, keeping my nose to the ground. It has been hours, but still I search. Otherwise, why does Master bring me? 

I find the duck on a slab of stone. Master’s bullet pierced it clean through the heart. Master always makes clean shots. He is very proud of it. 

I sit on my haunches and start to bay, long and low, with all of the air in my lungs. I will remain here until Master finds me. 

#

The sun has gone and the shadows grow long. Autumn has settled into the woods, and the chill sets the fur of my shoulders on end. Master still has not arrived, but I stand guard resolutely over the game we have worked to get, its flesh long since cooled, its spicy blood-scent weak. 

I stand, circle once, and return to laying next to the duck. A quiet whine frees itself from my broad chest. The song of the forest has grown since the sun set, and I can hear the screams of cicadas and a distant lynx. None near me, but even the scent of a long-dead bird can draw a predator this far into the season. 

I do not understand why Master has not come for me. He has never taken this long to find me. Surely he has not forgotten me…unless…

Something rustles in the underbrush some yards to my left. Low, heavy breathing reaches my ears which flatten against my head. The fur on my neck stands up and my lip curls back in warning. The sudden stillness of the air screams to me, danger!

There, out of the bracken, a massive hairy paw emerges, with terribly sharp claws. A huge snout follows it, dripping drool around yellow fangs. I can feel my steady heartbeat falter under the stare of beady black eyes. I don’t move—I stay standing over my prey, head lowered and tail raised, snarling with all of the fierceness I have. 

The enormous bear takes a step forward, its eyes locked on mine, and it feels like the earth trembles. It rumbles deep within its chest, several times larger than mine. I have seen the power a creature like this holds in the broken carcasses of caribou. I know it would not take much to kill something like myself. But I also know, as I know the pride that cushions my bones, that I will not back down without a fight.

I will not let this predator steal my Master’s game. 

The bear lumbers forward until its huge face is inches from mine. It nods toward the bird, groans loudly. Give it up, it demands of me. 

I bark once, deep and ringing. No.

The bear clacks its teeth, shakes its giant head with a huff. It rears back and stomps one powerful paw against the dirt. I twitch forward, barking sharply. Stay back! I snap my jaws at it. I know I cannot kill this predator anymore than I could bring an elk down without Master’s help. But I can certainly hurt it, and no creature likes pain. The bear backs up and prepares to charge. I will have to move, so I crouch to scoop the duck into my maw. 

Just as the bear lunges, a faint voice calls for me in the distance. My ears perk up. Master! He’s here!

Several hundred pounds of muscle slam into me in that single instant, and I am thrown back, collapsing against a downed tree with a crunch. Fire consumes my body with every shallow breath I struggle to take. My vision doubles as I watch the bear nose at the dead duck, only to swing its gaze back to me. My lungs rattle inside my ribs. I know that duck is no longer tempting. 

Through the ringing in my ears, I can faintly hear the crashing footfalls of my Master. 

But I know, as I know the love for him I hold in my heart, that he is far too late.

END.

By Rebekah Booth