Buddy chose to be wolf enough to howl celebration, and Jonah kind of grunted in response, spitting a stream of oily Storm-guck for the wind to blow away.
Grinn hoped to feel Salva’s subtle weight settling onto her back behind Buddy, but the moon didn’t grant every wish.
Angry appendages of the past tumbleweeded towards them. No time for resting. Or fainting. Grinn nipped a slipping Jonah quick on the ass. Half-shifted, without his eyebrows, Jonah’s startled glare looked damn ridiculous.
Grinn hooted and whapped him with her tail. Let’s run, stupid.
And run they did; shaking rust from the rail, skirting the frostbite-stick of hungry fingers, threading a pounding path through the lightning’s cracks, prodding and tugging at each other.
Until the lightning was only bright again, the rain was only water, and Grinn passed out.
In the dawn, there stood the godsdamn cave, not five hundred feet away. She blinked, adjusting her canine field of vision to the flowers just beyond the tip of her muzzle, untrampled by the shod hoof prints that led well off to the south. Their petals gave no scent, but she sneezed, and the ghost flowers vanished. She bobbed, considered investigating further; toyed with the vague thought that the horse-trail involved something that belonged to her pack, too—but the body close to hers held more interest.
Careful of the angry star pocked in his stomach, she pinned Jonah’s chest with heavy paws, burying her cold nose in his neck. He chuckled on the inhale, ruffling her shoulder fur.
He said, “Don’t know how to thank you. Probably shouldn’t. Just saddle you with all my bad luck.”
He practically reeked of nutmeg gratitude, though. She snorted under his chin.
He patted her sides, sighing. “All this time fighting for one inch further north, and there’s nothing to go back to. Always thought if they were dead, I would be too, but here I am.” He swallowed, meeting her eyes. “As for the rest... Sad, wasn’t it? Don’t know what to make of it all.”
She whimpered, he nodded, and she shook out her fur-water.
He laughed, angling away. “You stuck that way?” he teased, admiring the size of her. Almost as tall as him, standing; damn right, she was a pretty pup.
Grinn blinked. Perhaps she had gotten a little lost in dog-mind. Well, she was tired! And she’d been on her best behavior. Half-best, anyway. What-all had she given away to someone who’d grown up around wolf expressions?
Grinn shifted right back to two legs, ten fingers, and all the rest.
Cracking her knuckles, she drawled, “How’s the ass doing?”
“My ass is just dandy,” Jonah retorted, though as he pulled the ruin of his shirt over his head, she noticed he favored the left cheek.
He dumped the collected ribbons of shirt flannel on her head, and while she didn’t much mind her own nudity, the morning promised a chilly day ahead. “Okay, but your nipples’ll chafe in this wind,” she said, attempting to find whatever right-way-up the shirt still had.
Jonah laughed silently, and boy, was she glad she didn’t have a tail to wag. Then he went and poked a sore spot, asking, “What were you so afraid of?”
“What were you?” she snapped, before his tone sank in. Gonna take work, to ease her heart off that old hook. “That’s a story for pack,” she revised, adding, “So I expect Buddy’ll spill it to you on the way home. Or to the fort. Or—or home.”
Jonah all but perked up his ears, and she decided maybe her red face would keep her warm enough. “Hey, Buddy,” she called, “Got a shirt for you if you—”
Pink sky, chill breeze, damp rocks, no Buddy. Just a copperhead the length of her leg.
“Shit!” screamed Grinn.
“Aaaaaaaaghhhh,” screamed the snake, shrill and hoarse. Oh, that noise was familiar—not a copperhead at all, just the only orange gopher snake Grinn had ever seen. It figured that Buddy couldn’t be venomous even if she tried. Snake-Buddy sidewindered off like a stone skipping a pond.
“Buddy, dammit, tune your string to Person,” Grinn called, hauling herself to her feet. “Those ponies get any further away, it’ll be bootless bumming all the way home.” To Jonah she added, “Should you feel like exerting yourself...” Then, pretending his eyebrows didn’t give him away worse than a wagging tail, she streaked after the tiny shriek.
She only had a few strides to worry whether he’d follow. Soon enough he jogged after her, sighing, “Stuck to my shoe.”
She could hear his smile.
© Copyright 2019 Dayna K. Smith
Dayna K Smith - [BCS276 S02] - Hangdog (html) Page 3