by Kelli Kimble
I got out of my sleeping bag and took up the crossbow that Leif had left next to the tent flap. I unzipped the tent and poked my head through the flap, terrified that, at any moment, something with harsh claws was going to rip my face off.
It was shaggy and brown, with four big paws, and a bushy tail. I couldn’t see the head. It was clearly in distress, though. It was heaving in fast pants.
I stood with only my head outside the tent for a long few minutes. It didn’t move, so I pushed the crossbow through the flap, then stepped first one foot, and then the other, out onto the ground. I wasn’t wearing my boots, and a sharp rock hit the arch of my foot, but I barely noticed. I shifted my stance and moved slowly towards the animal.
It still didn’t move at all. Its panting was labored, and as I moved towards it, I noticed blood on the ground. I got close enough to reach out and poke it with the crossbow. It didn’t move, but a low growl emanated from it. I moved in a circle around it to the other side so that I could see the head. It had floppy, triangular ears, a pointy, brown snout with a round, black nose, and some very sharp teeth. Its eyes were closed.
I poked it again, and it opened its eyes. I saw them focus on me, and its lip lifted in a snarl, but it made no sound and didn’t move. Its panting increased.
“Easy. I’m not going to hurt you,” I said.
“What is it?” called Tennie.
“I think it might be a dog,” I said. “Or something like a dog. A wolf? A coyote?”
Leif came out of the tent and walked over to me. “The arrow is there, in its shoulder,” he said.
I saw the arrow sticking out from under the dog now. It was at an odd angle.
“Should we kill it?” he asked.
“No!” yelled Tennie from inside the tent. “Don’t kill it!”
“It’s a wild animal,” I said. “We don’t know what it’s capable of. Just look at those teeth.”
Tennie shot out of the tent and moved to stand between us and the dog. “I won’t let you kill it. It needs our help,” she said. She turned and kneeled down beside it. Tentatively, she put her hand on the back of its neck. It flinched but didn’t move otherwise. “There, there,” she said, smoothing her hand over the dog’s fur. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re not going to hurt you.” Impossibly, it didn’t react to her words or closeness, except to growl. “Bring me some water,” she said. “He needs to stay hydrated.”
I looked at Leif. He looked at me. He lifted his shoulders slightly. I felt the same. What were we going to do? I handed the crossbow to him, and I brought over a bucket of water.
She cupped her hand and dribbled water into the side of the dog’s mouth. It licked its lips, and made a tiny, high-pitched whine. “I know; you’re so thirsty. Your shoulder hurts, and your mouth is dry from all that panting. You just relax, and it’ll be fine.”
Leif and I exchanged another glance. He gestured for me to follow him. We moved away from Tennie and the dog so that she couldn’t hear our whispers.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” I said.
“No.” He pointed to her. “But, look, she’s feeding it already. By the time we walk back over there, she’s going to have a name for it.”
“It’s got to be dangerous,” I said. “It’s enormous. It could easily kill us if it wanted to.”
“I know. We’ve got to get rid of it. Let’s just tell her. We can’t let her get attached to it.”
We walked back over, but before we could say anything, she stopped us.
“I don’t care what you say. I’m not going to let you kill him.” She looked up at us, her eyes huge and pleading. “It’s probably going to die anyway, from the arrow. Let me take care of him.”
I opened my mouth to say no, but Leif put a hand on my arm to stop me. “She’s right; it’s going to die, anyway. Just let her.”
As if to plead its case, the dog whined again. She patted it and dribbled another handful of water into its mouth, as she made soothing sounds.
My shoulders drooped. “Fine. But, you’re taking care of him. I don’t know the first thing about dogs, or what they need.”
“Just help me roll him over, so I can bandage his wound,” she said.
I moved in closer and reached out to help her turn the dog over. But, I was too close to the dog’s head. It snarled and snapped at my arm, the most it had moved since we’d found it.
“Maybe you take the hind end,” she said.
“Yeah.” I glanced up at Leif. “Be ready with the crossbow. Just in case.”
He aimed it at the dog’s head. It seemed to understand what the crossbow was. The dog started to vibrate and let out a deep growl.
“Just turn it aside, Leif. He knows you hurt him with it before,” said Tennie.
Leif looked to me, and I shrugged. “Keep it handy,” was all I could think to say.
“Okay, ready? Let’s roll him over to his other side,” said Tennie.
The dog’s fur was surprisingly soft. I stifled the urge to pet him. We got him moving, and the dog let out several piercing yelps from the motion. But, he settled when we had successfully moved him onto his other side. Tennie gave him some more water and petted him. I stood up and moved away. The arrow was sticking out of the dog’s shoulder and was snapped in half but not broken, probably from when the dog fell onto it.
Tennie poured water over the wound, and the dog whimpered. Leif and I looked at each other again and backed away from the dog. It seemed ready to spring at any moment—to tear out our throats, or whatever part it thought was most vulnerable.
She noticed our retreat. “You two just go do your dig,” she said. “I’m going to stay here and take care of this injury. It needs proper cleaning and bandaging.”
“Tennie,” Leif said, “you can’t just nurse him back to health. It’s a wild animal. You’ll have to remove that arrow shaft to take proper care of the wound, and who knows how it’s going to react when you do that? It could really hurt you.”
Tennie leveled a look at him. “I’m going to do this. My conscience will not bear killing him. Nor will it bear leaving him to die. I have to do this.”
Leif stood still for a second, his face screwed-up in a mixture of sympathy and fear.
I touched him on the arm. “She wants to do this. Let her.”
She smiled, her eyes triumphant. “It’s the right thing to do. You’ll see.”
“I’m afraid we won’t see,” I said. “But, I won’t stand in your way.” I pointed at the crossbow. “We’re leaving this for you. If you need to defend yourself, you’d better use it.”
Leif set it down near the dog’s feet. Its eyes followed him as he moved close, its body tensing, until Leif’s hand released the bow.
We went to the tent to get ready for digging. “This is a bad idea,” Leif said in a low voice. “We can’t leave her here with it. She’s going to get mauled.”
“Are we talking about the same dog?” I said. “It likes her. It can’t seem to move. Anyway, you know her. We aren’t going to sway her, and if we go against what she wants, she’ll never forgive us. Is that what you want? Her hating us because of a dog?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But, I’d like her to live through the day, too.”
“I think we’ve got to trust her,” I said. In the pit of my stomach, there was a flutter of pain.
He laced up his boots and shouldered his canteen. “Silver, you’re my brother, and I love you. But, if you’re letting this go out of your own ambition, so help me—”
I cut him off. “No,” I said. “She struggled yesterday. She needs something. Something we can’t give her. Maybe this dog is that something.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But, it better not hurt her.”
We emerged from the tent to find her soothing the dog, while she tied a cord around its muzzle. Its eyes were wide with fear, and it was the dog’s instinct to struggle against the cord. But, she succeeded in wrapping it and securing it, like a collar, around its neck.
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I pushed Leif towards the dig site. “We’ll see you at lunchtime, Tennie. Yell if you need us.”
We moved off into the woods. I looked over my shoulder every few moments, afraid that she was going to find herself at the wrong end of those teeth. But, when the site came into view, thoughts of Tennie and her new pet faded, as I began to think about what we might find.
Hours of exertion and sweat didn’t get us much of anywhere. We cleared maybe another foot of dirt from the center square. It would easily be another two weeks before we reached the ground level of the town at that rate. I squashed down the hopeless feeling it gave me and reminded myself that hard work can sometimes be its own reward. Today, that felt like a false claim.
We went back to camp for lunch. Tennie was sitting next to the lit fire, the dog’s head in her lap. A bandage was wrapped around the dog’s neck and torso, covering the wound. The bandage was pulled tight, and it accentuated how much fur the dog had. He was actually much smaller than I’d first believed him to be.
Tennie didn’t say anything about the dog. “How’s the digging going?” she asked.
“We cleared out maybe another foot,” I said. “It’s going to be a tough afternoon, though. I’m sore from yesterday and tired from last night, too.”
“Me, too,” said Leif. “Maybe we shouldn’t dig this afternoon.”
I fetched a nutrient bag for each of us and handed one to Tennie, before I sat down across the fire pit from her and the dog. I didn’t want to sit too close, and when I handed her the bag, I noticed its eyes following me.
“That’s not the least bit transparent,” said Tennie, as she rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. Bo is fine. There’s nothing to worry about; you don’t have to stay here to watch me.”
“Who’s Bo?” asked Leif.
“This is Bo,” she said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Aren’t you, my Bo? Who’s a good boy? Who is it? Aren’t you the best boy?” Her voice was high-pitched and irritating.
Leif raised an eyebrow. “You named him?”
“Of course. I have to call him something.”
Leif drained his nutrient bag and scowled. “I don’t think you understand. We can’t keep him, Tennie.”
“Of course, we can. He’s a good boy. Aren’t you, Bo?” Bo’s tail made two quick whumps against the ground, and his eyes closed. “See? He’s happy,” she said. “He wagged his tail.”
“This is beyond insane, Tennie. You can’t just domesticate a wild animal overnight. His instinct is that we’re food, not friends.”
“Silver, tell him. Tell him that I can take care of Bo—that I’m not crazy.”
“Tennie, I’m not going to stop you from taking care of the dog,” I said. “But, you have to admit; it’s a little nuts to think that you can get him to forget a thousand years of wild behavior.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t have to admit anything. I’m not expecting him to be my pet. I’m only trying to do the compassionate thing.” She wrapped her arms around the dog’s body and leaned her face in close. The cord she’d wrapped around the dog’s muzzle earlier was gone, leaving his dangerous teeth exposed. The dog didn’t flinch at her closeness, or the pressure of her touch. Instead, it lifted its head slightly and licked a tear from her face.
I felt the pain in my gut again. What was that? Guilt? Was I letting her have her way because it was easier than forcing her to comply with what seemed safe?
I shook it off. “I understand, Tennie. You do what you need to do.”
Leif pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fiona isn’t going to like this,” he said.
Ouch.
“What? You’re going to run back to the mountain and tell on me, big brother?” asked Tennie. “What do you think she’s going to do? Put me over her knee and spank me?”
“It’d be a start!” yelled Leif. He jumped to his feet. “I’m going back to dig. You stay here with your project. I hope it bites you. Then, you’ll get it. Then, you’ll see.” He stalked off towards the dig.
Tennie hunched over the dog, more tears falling down her face. “How can he say things like that to me?” she said. The dog licked her cheek again, and she smiled at it. “You understand, boy. Don’t you?”
I retreated silently from the fire circle and went to the dig. Leif didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day, though we got a lot of work done. By the end of the day, the center square was dug almost three feet lower than the surface. Leif still wasn’t talking. He simply set his shovel aside and walked back to camp when the sun was near-setting.
I followed after him, worried about what would say to Tennie. As I approached, I saw that he wasn’t saying anything. He handed Tennie a nutrient bag, careful to keep his distance from the dog. He handed one to me as I walked up, and he sat down across from Tennie at the fire circle. He drank from his nutrient pack and stared at the sky, wordlessly.
“How’s the dog?” I asked. The silence felt awkward. I set about building a fire, just so I’d have something to look at.
She shrugged. “As good as he’s going to be for now. Stable.” The dog still had his head in her lap, and she stroked it with one hand, while she drank from her bag with the other. “I haven’t figured out yet how to get him into the tent.”
Leif snapped to attention. “Oh, no. That dog isn’t coming into our tent. That’s asking for trouble.”
“We can’t leave him out here in the cold,” she said. “He has to come in to stay warm.”
“No.” I’d never heard Leif sound so firm. “He can’t come in the tent.”
“Tennie, I think he’s right. I’m fine with you taking care of him, but we have to think of our own safety, too.”
Her back straightened. “Fine,” she said. “You two stay in the tent. I’m going to sleep out here with Bo.”
“You’re being stupid,” said Leif. “You can’t stay out here. You don’t know what’s going to come out of these woods.”
“And a flimsy layer of fabric is going to keep me safe from whatever comes along? Now, who sounds crazy? Look at his paws. His teeth. If he wanted to get in the tent, he would have been in the tent already. There’s nothing magical about it that keeps you safe.”
I glanced over at the tent. How stupid we’d been, to think it could keep out a wild animal that wanted to get in. She was right.
I was about to confirm that thought, when Leif jumped up. “Fine. Have it your way, Your Highness,” he said. He stomped into the tent, fished out her sleeping bag, and tossed it out through the flap. “Enjoy your evening with the animals. Silver! Get in here.”
I scrambled to my feet and went to the tent, but something made me stop and look back at Tennie. She smiled at me. “Go on,” she said. “I think he needs you.”
I hesitated for a moment more, then went into the tent. Leif yanked the zipper down and got into his sleeping bag. “Ridiculous,” he said. “She’s being irrational and ridiculous.”
“Maybe so,” I said. “But, you have to admit she’s right. The tent isn’t going to protect us from anything—except maybe some wind and rain.”
He stilled his rustling to get comfortable. “Don’t you start up again, you coward. You only let it happen because you don’t want waves that’ll break up your little project. Don’t worry. I’ll stay and help you dig because I said I would. But, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Leif, I’m sorry if you think—”
“Save it,” he snapped. “You know she shouldn’t be out there. You know we should’ve killed that dog. You know you let it slide for your own convenience. Just shut up and go to sleep. If you want to find that building so bad, then goddammit, we’re going to find it.”
For a moment, I contemplated taking my sleeping bag out by the fire and sleeping near Tennie instead. But, anything I did that seemed like a show of solidarity with her would only further agitate him. I snuggled into my sleeping bag and tried to quiet the sense that maybe Leif was right.
◆◆◆
In
the morning, Tennie and Bo were back at their spot near the fire. She glanced over when I came out.
“Good morning,” I said. “Don’t worry; he’s still asleep. How’s the dog doing?” I gestured towards Bo.
“Great,” she said. “Not that you really care.”
“Look, Tennie. I think I owe you an apology,” I said. “I knew it wasn’t safe to keep the dog, and I didn’t want you to risk getting hurt. But, maybe instead of doing what I believed was best, I let you get away with keeping him because it was convenient. For me.”
Tennie smiled. “No, Silver. Maybe Leif believes that of you. I don’t. You let me do it because you want me to be happy.”
“Either way, I shouldn’t have let you keep him. What are we going to do when it can get up and walk around? It could turn on us at any time.”
“’It’ has a name. Bo. I’d appreciate it if you remembered that,” she said, “and he can already walk around. We walked to the spring this morning, so he could get a drink of water right from the source.” Bo seemed to know that she was talking about him. As she said it, his tail thumped against the ground.
I moved to stand next to her. His tail stopped and hovered over the ground, at attention. “I wouldn’t let Leif know that just yet,” I said.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand his attitude,” she said.
“He’s worried for you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”
The tent flap opened, and Leif stepped out. He stretched first one arm, and then the other, over his head—while he looked everywhere but at us.
I exchanged a glance with Tennie, then set about getting ready for another long day of digging.
At bedtime, Tennie didn’t say anything about the tent. She set up her sleeping bag next to the fire, just as she had the night before. Leif hadn’t spoken all day, and he went into the tent without breaking his silence. I said goodnight to Tennie and turned to go into the tent.
“Aren’t you going to say goodnight to Bo?” she asked.
I looked down at the dog, who was sitting next to the fire, looking up at me, his head cocked to one side. “Uh, okay. Goodnight, Bo,” I said.