Chapter Text
It started with barking. The sound pulled you away from your shuffled stack of papers. Since you'd taken over this area of the reserve last month you had been combing through the numbers-- anything from rations to weather patterns to finances. It was important if you were to be bunking here for the season. You need to stay on top of wood, fuel, food of course, and much more. You had the experience, it's the only reason you'd be trusted here alone. You had the training, the years under your belt. It felt good to finally be able to use it deep in the reserve you've loved and cared for all these years. Another bark sounds, defensive and sharp. Right.
Unwrapping yourself from precariously layered folders, you quickly cross the threshold to the back patio and peer through the window. The sturdy wood mumbles under your steps.
You see it-- something-- not sure what, running in your yard. You don't get a chance to see but a smear in the corner of your eye and it hightails away, scraping beyond the treeline. Whatever it was, it's been chased off the property by a short brown dog who hunches low to the ground as it speeds to the bushes after it.
You step out to investigate, the screen door squealing as it goes. A brown ball of fur tumbles toward you, barking and whining still. "Shhhh, shhh Maizy, it's okay." The beast shuffles anxiously at your feet.
The dog growls, snout twitching with adrenaline. Maizy was your roommate, and your reserve-hand. Not that you had much land to handle. She was a short mixed breed, predominantly boxer and lab-- resulting in a round-eyed, short nosed pup with golden fawn short hair that sheds like snow wherever she goes. She's all muscle, and all loyalty, making for a reliable guard and helping hand... And a troublemaker.
You sigh and follow the path you're sure the critter had carved in the grass only to stumble a bit at what you find. Splotches dark liquid shimmer in the fading afternoon light. Blood. Whatever it was, it was injured. You give Maizy a scrutinizing look, but there's no proof of a bloody indulgence at her maw or claws. When she leans down beside you to sniff at the stained grass her heckles raise, lips curled above her teeth in offense. Clearly she was not pleased with whatever crossed her territory. Which was unusual.
Maizy was a good partner mainly because of her gentle disposition. She's no hunter, as good as she is at shaking her rattling stuffed toys to death. Maybe seeing something injured and sick set her off. Could mean whatever got it so bad is nearby still. When you still yourself to listen, not a single leaf rustles. No bees buzz and no birds cry.
You huff, the autumn air cool on your cheeks. Hoisting yourself up with a groan, you lead your companion inside for the night. This was quite the event, the most action you've seen since you arrived. A shame you couldn't see what it was.
After a few hours of work you decide to leave out food, just in case. You weren't sure what it was-- that animal-- but the trail of blood is proof that it's injured and needs all the food it can get to recover. It likely won't do much good, bringing the wildlife to your backdoor, but there is a writhing part of you that wants to help. Especially the part of you that worries about illegal hunting. If you can lure it with food you can get a look at its injuries, see if it's been shot.
There is no hunting on the reserve, and the sector you are stationed at for the winter is too far for anyone to be hunting near you. But illegal hunting is all too familiar around here. Groups flocking in with silencers to claim game under the radar-- wildlife that is supposed to be under your protection. This is now your investigation.
You grab a small dish, a shallow plate. It's one of many that you use to give Maizy wet food or treats in. The can you snatch from the dog food stash cracks open with a crisp sound and fills the air with beef and gravy. Your nose scrunches at the offense and you tip the can to the plate, watching as it easily slides out and lands with a wet splat. "Mmmm so yummy, definitely." You lie.
When you look down you see a shiny black nose upturned to the counter and big brown eyes that plead for the protein sludge. Maizy's tail sways excitedly to complete her award-winning puppy act. Smiling, you stroke the soft fur between her ears.
She follows you to the door, disappointment evident in the way her ears flick and tail falls as you set the dish outside and shuffle back in with none to spare her. The plate sits lonesome on the dark oak porch, a damning mark of your potential future code violation. You don't plan on getting caught.