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Bear waited behind the metal door as Harold secured the lock. There was no goodbye, just a little nod of the head before he limped away. Bear waited until he could no longer see him. Until his footfalls faded into the hustle bustle of the night above. Until what was left behind was his scent—Sencha green tea, biscuit, and expensive fabrics. Then Bear bounded back to where his bed lay by the side of the train car. He sniffed at it, circling around once but did not settle down. Instead, he walked further into the subway station.
He first went to the little area that served as the weaponry vault, discerning the exact spot where John had sat down for hours to clean up the guns four mealtimes ago. Technically, John was his owner. He had found and rescued him, but John was not the alpha of the pack. Harold was. Harold’s scent filled the entire space. It clung the strongest onto the chair by the computer desk, offering Bear a sense of comfort as he rounded around and came to stride past it.
Bear sauntered back to the bench and had to stick his nose on its wooden surface to breathe in the remnants of leather, gunpowder, and apples that was so distinctively Root’s. It was much older than thirty mealtimes ago. He huffed.
Once upon a time, Root was not part of the pack. She came and went as she pleased. Although she saw Harold as an alpha, she was an alpha herself. Still, when Root stayed in the cage in the library for the first time, Bear growled at her, mostly because Harold was wary of her. Bear liked the way Root smelled, though, like that sweet red fruit. He was happy when Harold no longer stiffened in alarm whenever Root dropped by. He was positively elated when he caught Shaw on Root, and vice versa. They had mated and Root was finally part of their pack.
Bear, like John and Shaw, were strays Harold had took in. Bear liked Shaw a lot. She brought him out, gave him treats and shiny collar, let him stay with her on the bed or even sometimes slept with him on the floor, and played catch with him whenever she was around. Shaw also always smelled so good, combination of many delicious human foods he salivated over all the time. Although there were times when Shaw smelled of thousands different scents that made up what human called as ‘perfume’ and he sneezed until he got used to it, she was still his favorite.
It had been eighteen walks to the park and Shaw had not come back. So did Root.
With a little whine, Bear concluded his tour by going to the only place in the entire subway that had Shaw on it—the cot. Normally, during the time Shaw lived with him in the subway, she would let him sleep on it with her. Normally, after Shaw did not show up and everyone had this thick sadness about them, he would rest his head on its edge without disturbing anything before he walked over to his own bed and stared at the empty cot until his eyes were too heavy to be kept open. Normally, he would still be able to pick Shaw’s trace on its blanket.
It had been eighteen walks to the park and Shaw’s scent had mostly gone.
Their normal stopped being normal eighteen walks ago and Bear took his chances. His forepaws rested on the cot first, only minutely hesitated before he pulled his whole weight up. He settled on top of the dark-colored blanket, snuffling his nose underneath the pillow to bask in Shaw’s scent. Old, barely there scent. He closed his eyes and slept.
Tomorrow, it would be nineteen walks to the park.
Bear was roused from his sleep long after midnight. His ears perked up from the footsteps echoing through the narrow stone staircase. Light. A woman’s. He clambered down from the cot and dashed to the door. There were multiple scents wafted through the air. Gasoline and leather and apples and steaks and Shaw. He barked happily. Tail wagged in excitement as a lean shadow darkened the bottom of the staircase. His enthusiasm faltered only for a split second when Root’s figure came into view.
“Hey, Bear,” Root greeted, voice soft and tired. She pried the door open, only enough for her to slip inside. “Did you miss me?”
Bear yelped. It earned him a good scratch behind his ear. Distracting as it was, he could not help himself from noting the way Shaw’s scent lingered on Root’s skin. His tail produced wealthy thumps against the floor, hope propelling the movements. When Root finished rubbing the side of his neck, he looked up at her whilst tilting his head to the side, as if asking where is Shaw?
Root had waves of misery coming from her and Bear leaned his head farther to the side. He did not understand her reaction, but followed her all the same. Shaw’s scent hit his nostril again, stronger this time, after Root shed off the outer layer of her clothing.
Bear did not particularly remembered colors and shapes, as his world and memories were made up of different smells more than anything else, but he was sure the dark blouse Root was wearing belonged to Shaw. It was not the first occurrence. The scent, as it turned out to be, was not fresh. The sweat clinging to it had gone reek, at least for Bear’s olfactory sense. It was as if Root had gone through Shaw’s pile of dirty laundry and snatched the one on the bottom.
Root glanced at the cot, lingered on the sunken area over the blanket where Bear had laid on. It was Shaw’s, until she left one noon and did not come back. Harold had made it then treated it like a sacred memento. John had stared at it with unread expression, refusing to rest on it even after forty-eight hours of nonstop work. Root was not around, but now she was and Bear expected a scold coming.
The wait prolonged as Root took a seat on the cot instead. The metal supporting its thin mattress creaked under her weight. She fluffed the lone pillow. Lips stretched in what Bear had learned as a smile. It was an odd one, a little crooked to the side and did not reach her eyes. It stayed as she faced Bear again. He flattened his ears, avoiding the gaze. Staring directly on the eye equaled to trying to pick a fight and Bear knew better than to challenge an alpha. He stayed like that, only flinched away momentarily when Root patted his head.
“I missed her, too.”
He whined and inched closer to the cot. She ignored his not-so-discreet movement, discarded her boots then crawled until her back rested against the metal bars. The pillow was soon in her possession, stuck between her body and drawn-up thighs. She buried her face in its softness and breathed in, until Bear whined yet again.
Root let out a small laugh at his antic. It was muffled by Shaw’s pillow. “Come here.” She patted the empty space beside her.
Bear did not need to be told twice. He climbed then settled on the aforementioned spot, curling up into a content bundle of fur, smelling Shaw while being petted by Root. Throughout the night, her hand never really ceased from combing through his fur. It paused, and when it did, Bear could smell the salt in fresh tears. He did not sleep. He stayed as still as he could, hoping to offer some sort of comfort with his presence. It was the only thing he could do for Root until Shaw got back to them.