Word count: 1613 words
The many beads of his uniform rattled as he landed with a heavy thud to the asteroid. All the air was pushed from his chest; his heaves the only sound to fill the eerie silence of a world without life.
Of all things to forget, it’s the “Don’t space travel from high places,” thing I miss first. Of course…
It’d been a full year, so the eternal tried to give himself the benefit of the doubt for some aspects slipping his mind, but the nostalgia of the asteroid, Cadmus, certainly never left him. As Cadmus pushed himself up to sitting, the silence beckoned forth the familiarity of other sensations—the sight of a verdant forest, the sweet smell of wet earth, the plushness of soaked grass beneath his palm.
After over a year, he was home, and the small pain that rose in his chest almost brought tears to his eyes. He internally rebuked the notion with a click of his tongue when he stood, brushing the flecks of grass clinging to his now wet butt.
Yea, yea, missed you, too, Cadmus thought as he trotted his way through the forest. I promise, I won’t abandon you again. Life… just got in the way.
Of course, he didn’t really think his asteroid was channeling feelings to him; it was simply his own misguided projection, but he couldn’t deny he missed his asteroid. It offered a comfort he could never find at his home on Earth, let alone the places he frequented on patrol. The memory of that comfort had faded with his absence, but now returned, it burst forth with a surging force.
Cadmus paused during his trek to thin his lips dramatically. I came here for a little R&R, not to be overcome with feelings, he thought. Can’t I just get an hour to destress? To clear my mind? To not think of life on Earth? Please? Pretty, pretty please?
Yet, the asteroid, or rather, the past wouldn’t give him that comfort. That mindboggling pull that started at the crown of his head to the base of his toes suddenly jerked Cadmus back before thrusting him forward; the eternal almost losing his step as he was flung into a memory.
You’ve gotta be kidding me… Cadmus thought. Of all times?
The wan light of midafternoon faded to twilight; orange bands of light stretching down like lithe fingers through the canopy. In an instant, Laius, Cadmus’s past self, was conjured before him. His poncho pooled about him as be bent to his haunches, arms circled around something unseen.
As Cadmus drew closer, the telltale whimper of a wounded dog alerted him to the events unfolding. Laius cradled the branchdog gently, his cheeks stained wet from recently shed tears. The hound looked up at him pleadingly—either to be saved or be put out of its misery—as it continued to writhe from the pain induced from what looked to be a broken leg.
“C-c’mon, you have, you have to stop moving,” Laius told the creature, his tone low and comforting. “It’s only going to hurt more, c’mon.”
The branchdog only whimpered louder, kicking with its capable leg. Laius only embraced the hound tighter, threatening a bite to his shoulder due in part to the language barrier between animal and human.
“C-Chrysippus, hurry and get back here!” Laius huffed as he wrestled the branchdog to stiffness. “Any more of this and s-she’ll break her other leg!”
As if summoned by the mentioning of his name, the boy came rushing through the undergrowth with items in tow, right passed where Cadmus stood. For a moment, the eternal almost thought he felt the wind off the boy’s rush, but quickly dashed the idea aside.
Laius’s mouth slackened to a thin line as Chrysippus settled down beside him. “Took you long enough!” he cried. “She’s been hurting this entire time!”
“Shut it,” Chrysippus said tersely, wrestling bandages, unknown medicine, and a small basin of water from under his arm. “It took me forever to sneak this away from dad. I even thought about giving up entirely because he just wouldn’t leave the house.”
Laius’s throat muscles clenched. “Chrysippus!”
“I didn’t because I knew you would never let me live this down. Anyway, c’mon.” He beckoned Laius to release the wounded animal. “Let me see her.”
Laius’s reluctance won over in that moment, and he jerked away from Chrysippus offering his help in holding the branchdog. It was only from a sharp furrow of his brow that Laius slowly tore down his defenses and released the poor animal. The sudden shift had the branchdog crying out in pain, causing Laius to wince in sympathy. Chrysippus, however, ignored whatever feeling this welled up within him to steel his resolve for what was to come.
For a boy of only thirteen years, it surprised Cadmus as a purveyor to see Chrysippus work. It was with an almost mechanical drive; following a step-by-step process expected of any medical professional. Examining the leg, straightening the leg, securing the leg—like clockwork, Chrysippus would complete one task before moving onto the next; all the while ignoring the branchdog’s wails. As if reacting for him, Laius continued to wince and futilely comfort the hound.
In a small span of time, however, with efforts from both parties, the branchdog was treated and calmed with a sedative supplied by Chrysippus. The hound’s head lolled at it rested atop Laius’s knee, heaving out pants in its sleep. Chrysippus soaked his hands in the basin of water he’d brought with him before sneakily wiping them clean on Laius’s poncho. The boy batted him away playfully, but watched his movement to not wake the branchdog.
“You’re really good at that,” Laius said. “The bandaging, I mean.”
Chrysippus sighed as he settled down next to Laius again. “Dad forced me to learn,” he said. “He said, “I’m not gonna be ‘round long! You better learn how to do this yourself!”” Chrysippus punctuated the mimicry with a huffy jab, which had Laius silently laughing. “I did it once before, with one of the bogdeer. It ran off after, though, so I don’t know if it made it.”
“I-it’s still super impressive,” Laius offered. “Lycus never taught me anything like that…”
“That can’t be true.”
“Well, he did, but just basic plant and medicine knowledge. Like if I only have to treat a small wound or something.”
Chrysippus hummed. “Then, um,” he began, “I could teach you sometime? It’d be good knowledge to have.”
Laius smiled brightly. “That would be great,” he said.
From the small silence that followed, both shifted their attention to the branchdog yet again. “What are you going to do about her?” Chrysippus asked.
“Dunno,” Laius said. “I’ll ask Lycus if we can keep her. Even if it is only for the time until her leg heals. She wouldn’t survive otherwise.”
“Do you think he’ll agree?”
Laius shook his head. “Probably not, so I’m really going to have to push him.”
“Would be nice if you could keep her as a pet. Didn’t you always want a branchdog?”
Laius smiled sheepishly. “Yea, I did… Ever since Lycus got bitten by the first one I wanted, he’s been adamant about not having one. This one, though… She’s kinda tame.”
Chrysippus tilted his head. “Think she had an owner before?”
“Probably.” Laius shifted as his leg began to numb. “Should we name her?”
Chrysippus pursed her lips. “Is that a good idea? What if Lycus won’t let you keep her?” he asked.
“I don’t care, she deserves to have a name,” Laius said.
Chrysippus inclined his head. It was the reply he expected from Laius, honestly. He weighed the matter for moment in thought before shrugging a shoulder. “It would be good to name her, but I’m at a loss,” he said.
“Well, you were never the creative-type.” Laius received a light punch in response, but it went breezily ignored when he piqued with a sudden idea. “How about Laelaps?” he asked. “It’s a nice name, isn’t it? Good for a hunting dog.”
Chrysippus’s lips drew to a small O. “Yea, that does sound good,” he said. “A swift name for a swift dog. I bet she could catch the Cadmean vixen.”
Laius’s eyes sparkled. “Seriously?” he asked. “You really think so?”
His smile was infectious. “Yea,” Chrysippus said. “I mean, she can’t now, what with that leg and all, but with time… Yea. I bet she’d make a great hunter. A dog that catches everything she hunts.”
“A dog that catches everything she hunts against a fox that is never caught. What a battle that would be. I would love to catch that fox, though. It’d make a great fur for during the colder season.”
“Well, if you train her right, Laelaps would definitely catch her,” Chrysippus said, reaching out to pat the top of her head. “I know she can do it, Laius.”
Cadmus was shoved back into himself as the surrounding area brightened. Despite the fulfilling feeling of having seen another memory of his past self, and the warmth it beckoned forth from the friendship between Laius and Chrysippus, he did feel a pang of guilt.
’S not fair, he thought. Dad never, ever let me get a dog, but Laius had one? So unfair! Once I get my own place, I’m totally getting my own dog…
The boy weighed this thought as he began to move on, pausing mid-step and giving a small huff of laughter at the thought that followed. And I’ll name her Laela, he decided, brushing a hand against a nearby bush. She’d be the fastest dog of them all. I can’t wait.
