Chapter Text
It was early November, not long after Halloween. The air became crisper by the day, shriveling the leaves that littered the ground. The leaves, made brittle by frost, cracked and broke apart beneath the feet that trod on them.
Loki found the noise irritating after a while. He liked to think that he was a kind, tolerant person, but everyone had their limit. After an hour of crush crus crunch crush-woosh! Cruss-ss, his head began to associate the noise with the pain in his arm.
Thori liked jumping in the leaves too much, and though he was still a puppy, he weighed a good thirty pounds and could put some force into his tackles. He didn’t seem to mind the collar yanking on his neck near as much as Loki’s shoulder protested the strain.
Loki tugged sharply on the leash to get his attention, “Thori, heel!”
The dog looked up at his name and trotted over, more because of the treat Loki was holding than the command itself, and did one of the two things he knew would get him the reward: sit.
Loki sighed and handed over the treat. It wasn’t what he’d asked for, but it was still a positive behavior. He supposed that there wasn’t any harm in re-enforcing good habits. While Thori was eating, Loki bent down, scratched him behind the ears, and told him he was a good dog.
He shortened the retractable leash so that Thori couldn’t go mare than a few steps ahead of or behind him. The mutt still pulled, but he had to let up occasionally so he didn’t choke himself to death.
When he gave up on the leaves and grudgingly walked just slightly ahead, Loki gave him a treat and praised him.
Flurries of snow drifted down from the sky and down the back of Loki’s shirt.
He looked up and frowned, zipping up his jacket. The weather report hadn’t said anything about snow, but he supposed he shouldn’t have expected differently. It hadn’t said anything about snow on Halloween either, but everyone had ended up wearing their winter coats over their Halloween costumes anyway, trudging home early with half- frozen candy.
Thori wasn’t a fan of snow either, and seemed to blame Loki for the change in precipitation. He glared at his owner over his shoulder, now dusted with snow, and huffed in annoyance.
Hoping that the snow wouldn’t stick, loki quickened his pace down the path. His fingers were stiff around the handle of the leash and ached with cold. Bringing a heavier jacket would’ve been a good idea. Gloves would’ve been useful as well, but hindsight doesn’t affect past choices, and Loki was freezing. He should just go home.
Loki stopped walking and considered his options.
On one side was the exit of the park, the other the edge of the forest. If he took the sidewalk, he’d have to walk all the way around the forest, which would take ages. If he cut through the woods, he might piss some people off, but he’d make it out of the cold much faster.
He decided that the risk of walking on someone else’s property and getting yelled at for it was worth getting home with all his fingers and toes.
Clouds of his breath swirling around his head, he abandoned the sidewalk, careful to avoid the droppings that someone hadn’t bothered to clean up. Thori wanted to stop and sniff, but was pulled away before he could linger too long.
Digging his toes into the dry earth, he hauled himself up the incline, stopping to catch his breath next to a wooden fence.
He could remember that it used to be barbed wire, and was glad that the city had made the old man replace it for the safety of the children when the park opened up.
A metal plate was nailed to a post nearby, reading: ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’ in big red letters.
Ignoring the sign, Loki climbed between the upper and lower planks of the fence, threading the leash through behind him when Thori decided to crawl beneath the lower bough instead of jump over it.
Thori paused to pee on the fence, and then went to investigate the new terrain he was in.
Loki let the leash out so it could extend to its full length and regretted it only minutes later. He was glad that his arm wasn’t being jerked on, but having to stop and untangle the leash every few yards was annoying.
His neighbors owned this portion of the forest, so it was thick and there were no paths to speak of. Thori was small enough that he could follow the trails of small mammals, but Loki had to wrestle with every bush he’d been near to get the leash back.
The burrs caught in Loki’s socks itched terribly. Or maybe that was the poison ivy.
By the time he caught up with him, Loki was ready to just carry the mutt home.
When he saw Thori, all of his anger evaporated and he couldn’t even bring himself to be slightly annoyed.
He looked pitiful.
The dog had misjudged the amount of space beneath a pricker plant and was stuck, a thorny branch tangled in his collar. He whimpered as he heard Loki draw closer, hoping for rescue.
Barbs clawed viciously at his hair as he hunkered down the get beneath the plant. The largest thorns were about the width and length of the last joint on his pinky finger, the smallest no wider his finger nail. They penetrated through his jacket and clothes easily, poking into his arms and back. It hurt, but he kept going because Thori looked to be in bad shape.
After the first tendril had slipped beneath his collar, Thori had struggled, thrashing around and biting at it fiercely, only managing to get more of the plant tangled around his body and hurt his mouth.
It wasn’t quite as bad as it looked. The only visible bleeding was from a small cut on Thori’s lip and some shallow scratches around his ears.
Loki unclipped the leash and was rewarded with thorns smacking him in the face as a branch was freed. He pushed it aside where it quickly joined other parts of the plant that were hooked into his shoulder.
He took Thori’s collar apart carefully but his fingers were bleeding from new cuts by the time he finished. The metal prongs unhinged with a clatter and several tendrils whipped into place, clipping Thori’s ear.
He began to struggle immediately, wriggling out from under the bush, leaving hardly any downy fur behind to say he’d ever been there.
Loki found that crawling forwards out of the bush only pushed the spines farther into his skin, so he backed out the way he’d come. He had to leave the jacket behind, slipping out of it carefully after undoing the zipper. Retrieving his jacket was difficult, but with a few sharp tugs it came free, a few barbs heavier than it had been prior to the bush.
Loki walked around the plant, unsurprised to find that Thori was nowhere to be seen.
“Thori,” He called. He waited and when there was no response, tried again.
“Thori, treat!” The sound of small paws on the forest floor reached his ears.
When his dog ignored his name, Loki knew that treats were excellent motivation. He pelted back to Loki, sitting at his feet expectantly.
Loki rewarded him and snapped his leash and collar back in place while he was eating, making sure to shorten the leash again.
He walked in loops and curves, zigzagging to avoid undesirable plants. The further into the woods he went, the more paths there were and the more he recognized his surroundings.
A light smile pulled up at the corners of his mouth as he passed a familiar clearing. Warmth pooled in his chest at the memory of Leah.
She was young in his memory, all lanky limbs and baby fat cheeks, before puberty had made sleepovers more awkward. A grin lit her face, showing off dimples that he hadn’t seen for a long time. The sun beat down overhead, surreal in the current chill of his surroundings. He remembered his chest aching with laughter, how he’d collapsed on the ground and fought for breath. Leah had sat down next to him and sprinkled grass on his face, the taste earthy and bitter in his mouth.
His arm was jerked backwards and he stopped walking. He turned and frowned at the small dog. He tugged once, sharply on the leash, but Thori didn’t budge.
His ears were perked, quivering as they strained to catch sound. The wind had shifted, cutting through Loki’s jacket. With it, the breeze brought a new scent. Thori’s nose twitched, legs stiff with fear, tail tucked in closer than Loki could ever remember seeing it.
A decidedly unimpressive growl came from Thori’s throat, sounding more like a whine, and petered out after a few moments.
After yanking on the leash a few more times yielded no results, Loki bent down to pick up the dog and carry him home. The hairs on his neck prickled, goose bumps erupting all up and down his arms. He froze with a hand on Thori’s shoulder.
Fear sent trickles of sweat down his spine. The canopy above his head, once a protective barrier, suddenly made him feel trapped. The forest was dark with receding light, and Thori let out another pitiful growl. His hands were clenched into tight fists when he straightened up. He tried desperately to run, but there was a disconnect between his legs and brain and they wouldn’t move.
He began to panic, but managed to stumble forward a step.
His assailant struck, sending his mind reeling, ass and dirt became acquainted, adrenaline pumped through his system.
In this situation, Loki was prey. As terror shut his brain down, only the most primal instincts remained. There were now only two options and, as the prey, Loki did as prey always do:
He ran.