Chapter Text
Wander
Night lays upon an emerald forest like a cool blanket. Deep silence suffocated the air and the moon and stars were blotted out by heavy clouds.
Then the sky lit up with the fiercest bolt of lightning ever seen. Thunder shook the ground beneath a dog’s heavy paws, nearly taking her legs out from under her, and the sky weeped. In her jaws she held tightly onto the scruff of a white pup that was so still and silent it might’ve been dead, its tail dragging against the ground.
The she-dog, Wander, a grey-and-white dog with a curled tail, pressed on, pushing through an endless and thick copse of trees with a fierce look of determination in her deep brown eyes. Mud drenched her entire body, weighing her down, yet she didn’t seem to care. Nothing mattered more than finding shelter.
Wander paused briefly to shake the heavy water from her pelt, taking care not to jostle the pup too much. With renewed strength, the she-dog launched herself forwards, bounding the last few fox-lengths between her and a structure before her, barely seen through the gaps between pale birch tree trunks.
At last, the dog stepped out of the forest and up to a pile of rubble a few tree-lengths away from a large, dilapidated building. Steps led up to a small sheltered area protected from the rain by a wide overhang. The door that led into the building was firmly closed. The she-dog carried the small pup over and to the back of the small deck and laid it down, then curled herself around it and began frantically licking its soaked fur. After several anxious licks, the pup opened its jaws in a quiet, pitiful whine.
Heaving a sigh of relief, the Wander curled herself up so that her entire body blanketed the small dog. She felt exhaustion dragging down at her from nose to tail-tip and it wasn’t long before she drifted off into a heavy slumber.
Wander awoke with a start when she heard scraping. She jumped to her paws and swayed from exhaustion; her pup let out an indignant whimper beneath her, but she ignored her, blue eyes staring out into the darkness of the forest beyond.
The night was eerily quiet. Wander could hear her own breathing despite how quiet she tried to keep it. The only other noise she picked up with her sharp ears was the gentle scuffle of her pup’s paws beneath her as she searched for her mother. After a few pensive moments, Wander finally relaxed, slowly lowering her body back down and draping herself over her small pup.
Then it happened again; a nearby, soft scraping, and this time she could pinpoint where it came from. She leapt back to her paws and let out a short growl instinctively, whirling on her paws to glare at the door that had seemed to be firmly in place when she first arrived. When the scraping stopped, she approached the piece of wood. It was white, but much of its color had peeled off in flakes. She sniffed at them. They smelled bland, but something else lingered on them; something that carried the touch of the forest. Something warm and with fur.
Wander rumbled another low growl, her fur standing on end. She sniffed at the bottom of the door where more of the scent wafted out. “Who’s there?” she barked gruffly.
Then she recognized the scent, and her mouth started to water. A rough scuffling and a patter of small paws faded inside of the building. Food. Wander dug her forepaws into the bottom of the door, testing its strength. Then she reached up and clawed at the handle. It didn’t turn like it did when the Longpaws did it. She dropped back down and checked her pup; she was rubbing up against her back leg, whining softly.
"Mother, I'm hungry," she whimpered, her voice weak.
“We’re going to have food soon, Dawn,” she rumbled to the little creature before getting back to work at the door. This time, she put all her weight into the bottom corner, scratching and pushing up against it. She heard it creak. Then she heard it crack. Finally, she pushed hard enough that the bottom corner snapped outward, protruding like a bent branch. She put her nose down to the hole and sniffed. The prey-scent was strong and filled her with energy.
Wander clawed vigorously at the opening until she heard a sharp, loud snap, making her jump. Then with a final push, the door broke inwards from the bottom, creating a gap large enough for her to squeeze through. She paused, testing the air again. The prey-scent was fresh but fading, telling her that whatever was inside wasn’t close to the exit. Good. She didn’t want it running away.
She leaned down to give her pup a comforting lick before slowly crawling under the door. Her pelt brushed up against the wood, but she managed to make it through. She paused with her rump still out, sniffing softly and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, her ears perked.
She heard tiny paws to her left and quickly padded in that direction, nose to the floor. It wasn't long before she was met with a wall. A rubbish bin was in one of the corners, tipped on its side and full of rotfood.
Confused at first, Wander stood there, watching the bin. Then she saw two yellow eyes appear only briefly. She crept closer, head low and tail still, ready for any escape attempt. Unfazed by a growl from the creature, once Wander was close enough she leapt into the bin.
She recognized the mask of an angry raccoon. The beast shrieked, tiny paws flailing at her face, sharp claws digging into her nose and cutting her across her forehead. Blood flew from her snout. She yelped, but the pain didn't drive her back. She snapped at the raccoon twice, biting its ear first and when it ducked beneath her chin to try to escape, she bit down hard on the back of its neck. It let out another scream. Quickly, Wander turned and squeezed her way out of the bin. The raccoon flailed and desperately tried to get its paws around her neck, but Wander kept a tight grip on its scruff and violently shook it.
She paused, and the raccoon was still. She turned and dropped it on the ground, but it was still alive; quickly, it scrambled for the door and she lunged after it, claws clattering against the floor. It was headed for the door, where she saw her pup poking her head through the hole. With a furious growl, Wander threw herself over and dropped down on top of the smaller beast, crushing it with her weight. Then she dug her teeth into its throat and finished it off with a snap.
Her pup's eyes were wide as Wander approached with her prey dangling from her jaws. Wander squeezed through the hole, nosing Dawn out of the way. Then she dropped the raccoon next to the pup and lay down beside it.
"Eat, Dawn," the mother-dog sighed, laying her head on her paws after she lied down.
“Whaaaa?! That’s huge!” Dawn sniffed the raccoon carcass. “And it smells weird!”
“Big enough to feed you for a long time,” Wander agreed. “Eat it. It’s good.”
"Mother, you should eat, too," Dawn replied, sidling up beside her mother. She couldn't take her eyes away from the caught food, though, and licked her lips hungrily, her belly winning over any qualms she held for eating smelly raccoons.
"I said eat," Wander growled, looking over her shoulder at the young dog.
"Fine," Dawn muttered. She padded to the carcass and started taking small bites. It wasn't long before she was digging in, famished.
When she had enough, she stepped away and Wander leaned over to finish the food off.
“You fought that thing so bravely, mother,” Dawn remarked, sitting with her tail wagging.
Wander rumbled softly. “You want to avoid fighting animals like raccoons or rats.”
“You are bleeding a little, on your nose.”
Wander wiggled her nose. It stung. “Hopefully I don't get sick. Raccoons and rats can really make you sick, especially if they bite you.” Inwardly, Wander was grateful it hadn't been a rat. “And where there is one rat there are always more.”
“How many more?” Dawn gasped.
“Thousands.”
“What are thousands?”
“Lots on top of lots and lots. So many lots, they had to make another word for it.”
“Wow!”
Wander licked her daughter’s ear before she turned toward the building. “Come on. Let's get warm. We can stay here for a while. At least until the skies are blue again.”
Dawn
The two dogs stayed at the abandoned structure for a few sunrises. Wander found a cozy spot in one of the rooms where she could make a bed out of abandoned blankets and torn up fuzz and other soft no-claw things scattered around. She also made sure there were no other animals nearby or within. Even if they were raccoons or rats.
Dawn eventually convinced her mother to let her explore the building. If they were staying there for a while, she might as well; after all, it seemed like the safest place they’d been in forever.
“Don’t ever leave the building,” her mother had warned, her eyes deadly serious. “I’m trusting you, Dawn; I’m going to fetch some prey in the nearby woods. I won’t be too far. The only way anything can get in is that one door. If something happens, you howl. You remember?”
“Y-” Dawn tried to reply.
“And don’t eat anything. Nothing at all. And watch out for sharp things on the ground, or holes, or weak floors that might fall.”
“You got it, mom,” Dawn had finally gotten in, tail waving, not minding her mother’s fretting.
Now, the small pup was bounding through hallways, probably missing everything that might’ve been anything in her excitement, chasing shadows and pretending they were birds and squirrels. She’d never been on her own in her life before. While it was a little scary, she was confident that her mother wasn’t too far, and that the building provided easy protection. There were so many small spaces she could hide.
“Gotchu!” she gasped, a ray of light beaming down on her paws after she’d leaped at it. When she lifted her paws, it was still there. She bit at it. It tasted like dust. “Yum, om nom nom! Delicious prey!”
A random sound made her whirl around, but she felt no fear; she bounded off in its direction. “Who goes there? This is my territory now! Begone or feel my wrath!” she barked.
Another sound. She gasped and ran off, darting into a small hole in a big wooden box. “It’s a bear,” she pretended, her voice a loud whisper. “Quiet, or it will sniff you out and eat you in one gulp!”
The inside of the box smelled like flowers. She sniffed and turned, exploring what little space it held. There were colors and markings on its inner walls. Something about the designs caught her attention. They comforted her, though she wasn’t sure why.
“I wish there was a whole field of flowers in here somewhere,” she mused to herself. “But it’d probably make me sneeze.”
She squeezed out of the wooden box and trotted around, slower this time, her head turning to look at everything she passed by.
Most things were covered in dust. There were other boxes, most of them the size of her or her mother, all of them with different proportions and colors. There were also things her mother had told her about; counters and cupboards and bins in particular, because she knew that food could be found there. One had some strange liquid inside with an odd smell. It was sticky and very old, hardly a liquid anymore. Dawn didn’t dare try to lick it.
She found other soft things, like long pelts with vibrant colors--her mother called them blankets, all of which gave her that same, odd comforting feeling. She rolled in them, then sneezed as the dust filled her nose.
There were also shiny things she knew that only no-claws could use, gray and hard and uselessly scattered all over the floor. She didn’t know what they could possibly be used for. She surely couldn’t eat them or sleep on them, although some were big enough to partially fit into.
Other colorful, smaller objects covered the taller surfaces. A lot of those smelled really weird, and usually in a bad way. She stayed clear of those. There was shiny, sharp stuff scattered on floors of a couple of the rooms she peeked into, so she stayed clear of those. She didn’t want to cut her paws, and those rooms didn’t look very interesting anyway.
She touched a small squishy orb with her nose and it rolled. She was suddenly washed with overwhelming joy. She played with it, batting it and chasing it around, then carrying it while she ventured up what she knew as stairs to the higher part of the building.
When she set the toy down, she touched something else with her nose. It was soft and squishy, too, and kind of looked like an animal. Another feeling washed over her, but this time it was sadness. She was perplexed, and wondered why the little thing was so sad.
She carried it to a blanket and set it down. “There you go. You must’ve been cold.” When she stepped back, she paused. Something told her that the fuzzy object was happy with what she did. “You’re welcome.”
She turned and padded back to her toy. After exploring a few more rooms, she decided to head back down the stairs. She’d found a lot of the same bins her mother fished old food from, and they didn’t smell too terribly.
As she made her way to the room they’d made their den in, red and gold light spilled through the holes in the walls. Night was falling. Her mother would be back soon.
As the thought crossed her mind and Dawn curled up on the blankets and soft fuzzes of their nest, her toy between her paws, she heard something scraping through the door down the hallway. “Mother?” she called out.
“It’s me,” Wander assured her pup. Her pawsteps echoed. She arrived in the room carrying a small rabbit.
“Wow! You caught a rabbit? Aren’t those really fast?” Dawn bounced over to her mother.
“This one was already dead,” Wander confessed. “I couldn’t find much on the outskirts of the building. Prey doesn't seem to like this place.”
“I found a lot of bins that smelled kind of nice in the other rooms. Maybe you could get stuff from those?”
Her mother put the rabbit down by their nest. “That could work. It depends on if it’s rotted yet. I don’t want you getting sick.”
They ate most of the rabbit, Dawn getting the most of it. Wander decided to save the rest of it tomorrow, to bring her strength before she ventured again.
“I’ll look around in the forest again tomorrow but I’ll be back a lot quicker,” she said.
“Why does the prey not like this place?” Dawn wondered aloud.
“Probably because it’s a no-claw place, and prey doesn’t like no-claws,” Wander answered.
“Prey doesn’t like anything.”
“They’re small and everything likes to eat them!” Wander chuffed.
“If I was a prey, I’d be a raccoon. Then I’d be able to fight.” Dawn rolled onto her back and pawed at her mother’s face.
Wander snorted, play-biting at her daughter’s paws. “You stay safer when you run and hide!”
“But that’s so boooring!” Dawn whined. “I bet everything would run if I showed them my teeth. And if I was bigger…”
“Until then, you’ll be running and hiding.” Wander placed her whole paw on Dawn’s head, and the pup’s chin met the blanket.
“Hey-” she huffed, her voice muffled. She squirmed. “Let me go!”
Wander let her go and licked her ear. “It’s time for your sleep story.”
“Yay!”
Dawn cuddled up into her mother’s belly, getting comfortable. The song of crickets and the occasional hoots of a nearby owl filtered through a few small cracks in the wall.
“Your father’s name was Sacha…” Wander began. Dawn’s eyes gleamed with curiosity and excitement. She always loved learning about her father. She’d never been able to meet him. “He taught me how to swim and how to catch fish. Before him, I hardly knew what a fish was. He said his caretaker--those are no-claws who keep dogs in their homes--took him fishing all the time, and sometimes even in a boat. Those are big wooden things that no-claws use to swim in the water without getting wet.”
“How did you meet him?”
“At the lake on the other side of the city,” Wander replied, staring out at the entrance, her eyes full of stars. “He used to bring fish to me. One day, his caretaker came with him. I was scared of him at first, but he was nice. He gave me a wooden box to sleep in several days later.”
“Did the caretaker leave after the Great Thunder, too?”
Wander nodded sadly. “Sacha was devastated. He wasn’t the same after that. But he still loved me very much.”
“What about me?” Dawn chirped, nudging her nose into her mother’s chest.
“You weren’t born yet!” Wander snorted.
“Oh, yeah.”
Wander went on. “We explored the city together when all of the no-claws left. At the time, dogs were scattered. They were lost, confused, and didn’t know each other. So there wasn’t the scary pack there is today. I was glad I had Sacha with me, though, or I think I would’ve been very lonely.”
“I had a friend I’d known before I met him, but we didn’t talk much until the Great Thunder happened. When it did, Sacha and I went to visit to make sure she was okay.”
“What was her name?”
“Amalie. She had--still has--golden and curly fur. She’s very pretty and very nice.”
“I want to meet her!”
“She left the city before we did. She followed the big river. I don’t know where she is now.”
“She’s probably okay, and she probably found a really good place to stay. Maybe one like this one!”
“I hope so.” Wander looked off, her eyes wistful. “I should’ve gone with her. We both should’ve.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Dawn felt sleep tugging at her eyes, but she was still curious about something. Something she wasn’t sure if she should ask, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Mother..?”
“Yes, Dawn?” Wander leaned in to give the pup’s ear a lick.
“What happened to Sacha?”
Wander’s fluffy tail curled in to embrace Dawn. With a lick to the pup’s head, Wander curled in, snuggling closer. She didn’t answer. Dawn felt a wave of her mother’s grief wash over her, although she’d never met her father and therefore had never lost him. In answer to it she felt her own guilt, a sharp pang in her heart.
I’ll never leave you, mother, she thought. I’ll be as safe as I can so you never have to worry. She licked her mother’s chin before tucking in and closing her eyes.