Laika was stretching and shaking off the dew that had settled on her fur from the night by the time Zonga woke up. He yawned, and got up, stretching his own legs out, arching his back toward the floor and then toward the sky. Kicking his feet and shaking his head, he let the shudder run all the way through his body and down to the tip of his tail. In the end he felt very well stretched, and limber enough to start his day.
“Good morning, my pink flower,” he said, padding over to the love of his life and nuzzling her affectionately. She returned the gesture, bumping her nose against his and then smiling at him lovingly. He adored the way her green eyes sparkled when she looked at him, the way her smile seemed to light up the whole area, even the sky itself. He smiled back at her, but hardly thought the world noticed it by comparison. Not that he needed anyone else to, but her.
“Do you want to go for a walk today?” She asked him lightly, bounding away from him and wagging her tail high in the air. He watched her with a calmness only he possessed, a perfect counter to her endless energy. He was her foil, as she was his. And just as he loved her for everything she was, she depended on him to support her in all the ways he could offer. She loved him with everything that was in her, and that was a very impressive amount, all told. Her capacity for love had always been boundless, and she shared it with everyone she met. But something in him had sparked a new reserve, a new reservoir, that was dedicated solely to him. She found she could never love him enough, and that was the best discovery in the world.
Zonga padded towards her and she barked at him, bouncing away from him happily. She knew he would always follow. And that he did, picking up speed, which only prompted her to bounce away again, faster. This exchange kept going until they were both loping across the morning grass, running as fast as they could and leaping over rocks and patches of grass and whatever else that got in their way. Their happy barks and playful growls woke birds and rabbits, sending them skittering in various directions. But the dogs weren’t interested in chasing animals or food, just each other.
And then everything fun came to a screeching, suddenly halt.
Laika’s paw found deceptively soft earth and sank into the muddy, untouched ground of a newly discovered bog. Newly discovered, as they two wild dogs had never been there, or at least had never realized it existed. As soon as her paw penetrated the thin covering of overgrown grass and sand a noxious odor filled the air. Her speed suddenly interrupted, she found herself jarred suddenly to a stop. Before she had a chance to even slow herself, half her leg had vanished into the squelching, malodorous bog. The rest of her body continued to rocket forward.
The sound of the snapping bone tore through the air, and through Zonga’s ear drums, like a clap of thunder.
It was followed quickly by Laika’s cry of pain.
His heart stopped in his chest, leaping up and blocking his throat, disallowing him from drawing a proper breath. Not that he was even thinking about breathing right now. He ran to her side, aware of the dangerous terrain and keeping his paws light and fast, pulling them away from anything that began to sink under him. He saw her prone form half sunken in the bog, the wretched scent making his eyes water as he hurried to her side.
“Laika! Laika, please, please be okay,” he nuzzled her head, lifting it up and away from the grabbing, sucking muck. She was barely conscious, pain and shock, coupled with the intense fumes of the bog itself, knocking her senses from her. She let out a soft, pitiful whine to acknowledge him, but her sea green eyes fluttered closed and her head lulled to the side, away from his muzzle.
“No!”
Panic was a strange thing. He felt like running away, but his body refused to let him. His mind refused to let him. Where would he go? If he left her, she could slip under the muck and die. Suffocate. She could die. He would lose her. His thoughts were sudden and halting, disjointed in such a way that each one seemed to clatter around his skull before finally finding its place in the forefront of his mind, only to crash away again and be replaced by another hurried, terrified thought. He had to get her out of the mud. What had she hurt? What was that smell? What if he couldn’t save her?
Everything came back to losing her.
Moving as quickly as he could, digging his paws into the most stable part of the surrounding ground, he reached forward as far as his neck would extend and took hold of her fur, where her scruff might be, pulling her with all his might while trying to keep his hold as soft as possible. Tears stung his eyes as he tugged and felt a rush of hopelessness she didn’t move at all despite his efforts. He screamed in his head for her to help him, but no sound escaped as he did not want to let her go. Silently he begged for her to move, over and over again, his mind a chant of prayers.
Just move.
And then she did, suddenly, the sticky mud losing its grip on her fur and body and giving her back to her mate. He tumbled backward with he sudden shift, and Laika landed near to him on the earth. He couldn’t rest, not yet, pulling her from the evil pocket of swamp, trying to get her to where the air was fresh. He was panting by the time he had gotten her far enough from the sink hole to feel safe, which, as he looked back, was a surprising distance. He looked down and nuzzled his mud and grime covered mate, who was laying still on the soft grass he had found.
Her beautiful pink fur was marred by the disgusting stuff, and he wanted to find water, to clean her off, as if that might be the key to curing everything bad that had just happened. He saw, though, that being dirty was the last of his, or rather her, problems. Her leg had been damaged in the fall, he could see how swollen and angry it looked, and the way it bent in a strange, unnatural way. Whining softly, he moved to nuzzle her again, saying breathlessly, “wake up, my pink flower.”
She didn’t wake. She didn’t move.
(Word count: 1,146 in Word)
