LostbySilverwolf ©![]() Lost She lay trembling in her dark hiding place. The icy January air caused her shivers, but fear caused them more. Four days she’d hidden here, yet the terror remained as surely as the sticky, hot blood that continued to ooze from her side when she moved. She turned in on her side causing another sharp pain in her ribs, and tucked her small nose under her dirty tail still too terrified to close her soft brown eyes. Hunger tore at her stomach, yet she lay there afraid to search for sustenance. She wished for her mate to come, waited for his strong arms to hold her again. Yet she feared never seeing him again, as the memories of that horrible night rushed in on her, making her delicate body shake anew. Six days before she thought her little world would never change, and was happy with the idea. They spent the morning cuddling in bed, warm with each other, contemplating emotions misunderstood by others yet enjoyed by themselves. Rising late, she walked through her garden, the snow covered bushes familiar to her twitching nose, then ran to the house for an afternoon meal with him. The busy evening hours at work gave way to quiet caresses as he read to her later in the night, and when he finally said “lets lock up and head home, girl” she ran to the door anticipating another passionate night in their soft bed. It was while she joyfully trotted toward the truck that the terror started. Stepping off the front curb, she noticed only the dark between her and the truck, but as he was close at her heel the dark failed to bother her. Half way to the door of their vehicle she heard movement to her right, behind the blackened building. Turning, her eyes grew wide at the sight of three strangers rushing toward her. Tucking tail, she darted under the truck, only to turn and watch them leap upon her mate with fists flying. She saw him fall, fighting, and, her fear overcome by love for him, she charged snarling at his assailants. Her sharp yips and tiny teeth seemed to take forever to get noticed. Finally, one of the strangers leapt up yelling and swung a bloody foot into her, sending her spiraling into the side of the truck. The pain startled her, and she lay stunned where she fell till it became just a dull ache through her little frame. He wasn’t moving. They stood around him, one bent over taking things from his clothes. She watched for him to stir, his stillness terrified her and she rushed at them again. She sunk her white teeth deep into the leg of the nearest man, taking strange satisfaction in his howls of pain. She barely saw the glint of metal the other swung that plunged painfully into her already sore chest. The cruel wound panicked her, and for the moment forgetting her mate, she ran. She ran what seemed an eternity, finally stopping on a slightly familiar, yet darkened street. She thought she heard her lover’s voice behind her, but when she turned she saw a strange car with different colored lights, a shadowy figure calling her name in a shaky voice. She turned and ran anew. A full day she spent slinking past strange houses, running fresh each time someone spoke or tried to touch her. She passed a big building with lots of people, those funny small ones, gathered outside. There was one who yelled her name, like one of those who’d come to where he worked and give her treats, but unsure, she ran farther. It was late the third night that she found this hideout, she’d stopped passing houses earlier in the day. The air around these buildings smells like home, she thought, the scent of horses and cows. The house looked strange though, so she stayed near the big red buildings, sniffing a way under cover. The doors all closed; she eventually found a small hole in the stone foundation. The effort of stretching her tiny body through the hole brought waves of pain, and crying, she found the farthest corner to curl into and wait. She lay waiting still, wishing he would come for her, wondering if he could. Searching He yawned, feeling sharp pains in his chest with the intake of breath. Taking a hand from the wheel, he reached inside his coat to tenderly finger his bruised ribs. He hoped they were just bruised, he thought. There was blood on his shirt, but farther down, and he’d hidden that from the cops. He didn’t want to waste time in an emergency room. He lit a cigarette, and turning the wheel, crawled at five miles an hour down another village street, his tired eyes scanning the houses and fields. No people around, he said to himself, no one to ask, “have you seen a stray dog? She’s small and black, with a hot pink collar, and kinda shy.” He looked briefly at his gas gauge. Damn, he thought, I’ll have to head down to work and fill up. The third tank in five days, he’d burned a lot searching these streets. Turning around in a driveway, he glanced at his watch, the broken crystal telling him he had a full hour to wait for his boss to open the station. Well, he could turn the pumps on himself, and leave a note. He’d be turning in those keys, he figured, he hadn’t been to work since the robbery, cruising these streets and handing out flyers with the only picture he had of her on them, and twice stopping home to check messages. His boss must be pissed, already shorthanded and losing an employee for a week so he could find his lost dog. He couldn’t explain to the man, she was his mate, his everything. He had to find her, and she was hurt, he knew she was. The blood in the parking lot, and on the door of the truck, it wasn’t all from those bastards that robbed him. The blood got him, and he replayed the night in his mind. They jumped him from behind as he walked to his truck. They had to know he carried the day’s reciepts to the bank each night, but the violence made no sense. He’d have given them the money bag if they’d asked, the company didn’t pay him that well that he’d risk himself, or her, for their money. They never asked though, just bashed him to the ground, beating him in the head and back. Before going black, he saw her hide under the truck. She’d stay there and be safe, he hoped. She didn’t though. He dimly remembered her charging them; muffled barks and pain filled yelps ringing in his dull ears. He shook off the blackness in time to see her bite one, and another stab her. She ran, trailing blood and their sick laughter. The money in their hands, they ran the same direction she took, and he struggled to his feet to follow. They must have thought he was pursuing them, as they turned to assault him anew. His blood boiled, more at them delaying him than attacking, and he tore into them like a hurricane. Face to face he could handle himself, and did, beating one to unconsciousness and chokeholding another, when the local police rounded the corner on their nightly patrol. Precious minutes wasted explaining the situation, hours shot filling out reports as she continued to bleed out there somewhere. It took two of them and a set of handcuffs to get him to the station, and he twice refused the emergency room before they took him back to his truck. On the way, the cop said, “hey, is that your dog?” She stood in the headlights beam, a mile from the station. He yelled to her, jumping from the cruiser, and was amazed to see her turn and run. She ran, away from work, away from home, and away from him. He ran after her, puffing painfully till the cop caught him and told him he wouldn’t catch her that way. “She’s petrified man, lets go get your truck and come back. Maybe she’ll recognize it.” She was gone when he got back, only being seen twice in the next few days, by an old lady opening a church thrift shop and a young friend of theirs going to school. So he searched, driving in an ever-widening circle from the school, where she had last been seen. He stopped now at the empty station, and starting the pumps, was filling his truck when his boss pulled in the lot. “Yer early” he said. “Thought I might open the side door, leave it in case she found her way back. You hear any more on her?” “Not yet.” “I put ya down for vacation this week. Hope ya find her soon.” “I will,” he replied confidently, though he was no closer than he had been the night she disappeared. He paid for the gas, and a soda, and headed down to his house. He planned to check messages, first feeding the horse, then head out looking again. He sat in his chair listening to the few messages on his machine; none about her, and five days overtook him as he sunk into a fitful sleep. Found He woke with a start, lifting his left arm to look at his watch, which caused a sharp pain in his ribs and brought him to full consciousness. Noon, Christ how the hell could he have slept? Seven damned hours lost, he thought while making his way to the toilet. He washed his hands, throwing some cold water on his face, then gathered some new flyers to hand out. He thought of her, cold, scared and hurt. She wouldn’t be sleeping. He shouldn’t have either. She heard a noise near the hole she’d gone in through. Closing her mouth, she tried to sniff, but her nose was full of dry blood and she got no air. She opened her eyes, she hadn’t realized they were closed, seeing a small circle of daylight midway down the foundation wall. The light disappeared, replaced by a large black nose and a whining sound that reminded her of a friend she met at the park once. She whimpered lightly back, and was answered by frantic barking from the other side of the wall. She started to bark back, the effort causing new pain in her side, but stopped when she heard a mans voice. Not her lover, this voice was high and cracked. Fearfully, she slunk farther into her corner. The old farmer walked toward his house, horses and cows fed, to see what the missus had for breakfast. He turned, hands thrust deep in his carharts, thinking to call his redbone in too. The old dog couldn’t take the cold any more than he. The name hadn’t passed his lips though, when he heard the old hound baying, a tense, insistent bark. He hurried toward the machine barn, an ancient wooden structure where the dog’s voice rang out. The dog was digging frantically at a hole in the foundation, and the gentleman thought he heard another bark, high and quivering, from underneath. “Hey fella, what have ya got there? A fox?” The dog stopped digging, and so did the barking under the floor, a pained whimper preceding the silence. His dog turned, first to him then the hole several times as he scanned the snow around the barn. He found tracks, but not the barred pad of a fox he expected. These were small, fox sized, but fine feathering showed around the toes, the side to side pattern saying dog. A thought came on him, and grabbing his hounds collar, he rushed for the house. She couldn’t stop shaking now, and the movement had started a new flow of blood from her side. The noise outside disappeared, and she thought of venturing out, but it hurt so to move she stay put. She tried to shut her eyes, but was so afraid she couldn’t keep them closed. He was just opening the door to leave when the phone rang. Might be about her, he hoped, and waited to hear the machine pick it up. Not news of her, his mother’s voice crackled over the tape. He picked it up, figuring he’d better tell her about the robbery since it happened a week ago. He hated losing more time though, but settled into his chair and spoke into the handset. “That fresh bacon I smell?” the farmer called out, swinging the door closed behind him and freeing the hound from his grasp. “I’m just draining the grease” his wife’s voice rang out. “Put it in a bowl,” he yelled, “over some of Spikes dogfood.” “I don’t want that dog eatin grease, it makes him loose.” “It ain’t fer him woman, we got a visitor under the barn.” He riffled through the week’s mail as he spoke, finally, with a satisfied “Aha!” he held up a wrinkled sheet of white paper. His wife, a slightly heavyset woman, came in the room dusting her wrinkled hands off on her flowered housecoat. “What do you mean, we got a visitor,” she asked. He showed her the paper. “This little girl here, if I ain’t mistaken.” He quickly related the episode by the barn. “I wanna coax her out with some food and make sure before I call the boy what left this flyer.” “I’ll go fix her up somethin nice. And I’ll put Spike in the kitchen for now.” As she headed for the kitchen, the old man set a chair by the window, giving himself a clear view of the hole in the barn foundation. She heard noises again, that crackling old voice cooing and whispering. There was a smell too, penetrating even through her blood choked nostrils, a meaty smell that stirred her empty stomach. She cowered, waiting for the strange voice to stop. The old man sat, an hour, then half as much again staring out at his barn. His wife brought some coffee. “Anything yet?” “No. Maybe it’s just a fox after all.” “What’s that?” his wife pointed out the window at a small black dot showing in the opening. The dot became a face, black with white on the nose and throat, a small black body following it to the bowl of food. A bright pink collar showed clearly around its neck, as did dark red blood on its side. “Hand me the phone ma.” The old guy’s voice cracked even more than usual. He had just hung up the phone when it rang again. His mom had still been upset, and thinking it was her he picked up on the second ring rather than leaving it to the machine. “Hello,” his tired voice echoed in the empty room. “Hello,” a shaky, excited voice replied, “I think I’ve found yer little dog.” Rescue, and epilogue His heart pounded in its bruised housing. Don’t get your hopes up too high, he reminded himself as he sped down an unfamiliar road in the country. The address was a full fifteen miles from work, and though in the same direction as home, it was ten miles too far east. The chances were slim that it was her the old man had seen. More disappointment he didn’t need. The old man stood by the mailbox, hoping his directions were clear enough for the guy to find the place. A black ford truck, he had said. There was one now, coming from the west with a loud muffler echoing off the blacktop. He waved his arms to flag it down. She heard a loud, yet familiar noise. Opening her eyes, she pricked her tiny ears to soak in the sound. He saw a farm up the road, a bent old farmer waving at him. This must be the place, he thought as he pulled in the drive. Stepping out, he extended a tired hand of introduction. “I’m sure this is yer girl, even saw some blood on her side. You did say she’d been hurt?” “Yeah, the punks stabbed her from what I saw.” “Lord, the crime these days.” The old man shook his head. “Where’s she at?” The old guy pointed a bent finger across the road. “In that old barn over there. She’s under it though.” The old man hefted an even more ancient crowbar, “May need ta tear up the floorboards,” he said with a grin. They crossed the road, heading for the hole in the stones. “Save your floor, I can fit through there.” “You sure? That’s a might narrow.” “I’ll get in.” He removed his bulky coat and lay belly down in the wet snow. Moving what loose stones he could, he shoved his arms in first, then eased his head and chest behind. He paused, giving his eyes time to adjust to the gloom. She heard noises outside again. The old voice was there, and another, like his but strained and tired. A digging sound followed, then the light of the hole disappeared. She could make out a form crawling through the opening, and growled a warning. Hearing a deep growl he thought, “What if it isn’t her? I could get torn to shreds before I can back out of here.” Yet the growl sounded more scared than threatening. He turned his head toward the sound, his eyes just making out a dark shape in the far corner. “I got a flashlight here.” The old man tapped the light against his hip. Reaching back for the light, he turned the switch and aimed the beam at the shape in the corner. When the light hit her she growled louder, the growl she used in the park when other dogs would get too close. The light showed a black furred butt, and stimulated a new growl. He smiled to himself, recognizing both the growl and the dome shaped ass. “Hello Tippy,” he called softly, and shone the light on her pretty face. Unsure of the voice yet, she continued growling. He kept speaking to her, fighting to keep the emotion from his voice as he turned the light on his own features. Her mate! Her little heart jumped at the soothing sound of his voice, and whimpering a mixture of pain and relief, she started crawling toward the light. As she neared him, he threw both arms around her soft body, and yelling to the farmer to watch out, began easing them both backward. Standing, seeing her in daylight again, he hugged her despite their sore bodies. The old man, beaming ear to ear, led them to his house, where his wife waited, teary eyed at that sight of the reunion. After a bath, eight stitches and some IV liquid replacement, she spent 2 comfortable but lonely days at the vets. The extra day spent because after a week of coughing blood, he accepted defeat and headed for the emergency room to have two ribs set, and a few stitches of his own. The third day he came and took her home, immediately crawling into bed with her and falling into a deep, relaxing sleep. The end:) "Site content and stories Copyright secured 1998-2003 Silverwolf & Silverwolf Industries" "E-mail the Author at silverw122@netscape.net" |