Bark at the Moon

The echo of claws upon stone rattles through the complex of caverns. Most of the sounds are coming from the many other members of your group, sniffing out gems of all shapes, sizes and colours before driving their sharpened claws into the rocky walls and retrieving said gems in a matter of seconds. Lesser races - like, say, ponies - would probably spend many minutes, even hours, mining them. The air smells dank with dirt, just like every other part of these caves, not that you care much. To Diamond Dogs like yourself, the scent of dirt is synonymous of your underground homes. The smell of caves are as natural to you as the smell of salt to a sea-dwelling fish.

Wait, can fish smell salt? You don't know, you've never asked one.

Now, the smell of diamonds and gemstones. That's a different story. They smell like nothing you'd be able to describe to those not gifted in the way of a Diamond Dog's nose. Again, ponies seem to spring to mind. They wouldn't know what gems smell like; in fact, they seem to prefer the sight of them. You've never seen a pony sniff a gem, at least.

You suppose you could describe the smell of gems as more of a feeling than a scent. They smell kind of like a completed one-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. Or a finished work of art. Or maybe a really good book that you've only just finished reading. The scent varies from one gem to another.

To those who still wouldn't know exactly what a gem smells like... too bad. It's their loss for not having the nose of a Diamond Dog. But enough of that; you continue with your task alongside your fellow canine cave-dwellers, searching for yet more gems, maybe the occasional geode just to keep as a memento. While all Diamond Dogs get paid a decent wage while mining, the bosses like to give out bonuses to the mining team with the most impressive haul.

That's when you sense it - the slightest glimmer from the corner of your eye. You turn your head upwards and catch its scent; a large gemstone with most of its body embedded inside the cavern's dirty ceiling just a foot or two above you. Carefully extending a single clawed finger, you dig away more and more of the surrounding dirt until you've uncovered more of the gem's body. You're a little bit amazed to learn that this thing's trice the size of your head! How could any of your Diamond Dog friends missed this, you wonder?

Then again, how many Diamond Dogs do you know that think to look straight upwards? It's easily missed. You glance over your canine shoulder to said workmates; they seem to be preoccupied, digging their own way through the walls and sniffing intently at nearby corners. Imagine the look on their faces when you show them this hulking beauty of a gem.

The aforementioned glistening lump starts to loosen from the above dirt. Instead of picking away more of the cavern's ceiling, you shift both of your front paws onto the dirt itself, seeking to yank the whole gem out in one swift action. It takes nearly all of the strength in your huge canine arms to pull, but it eventually pops loose from the ceiling's dirty grip. You briefly lose your balance as it falls away; landing flat on your backside as the huge glistening gem mightily thuds the cavern's ground beside you.

You stare at the gem's clear white-blue surface; a full-blown diamond. A massive one. And you're the one who dug it up. As much as you'd like to lay claim upon it, you know you'd never be able to sneak it in the pocket of your tatty vest. But you can taste the bonus you'll be getting from your boss, that's for sure...

Rumble...

Your heart stops for a moment upon hearing that sound. Further up the cave, your workmates all lift their heads, perking up their ears; it seems that rumble wasn't your imagination.

When a rock crashes down mere inches away from you, your fears are confirmed.

"Everyone out, it's not safe here!" the foreman of your group barks, "Single file, help other dogs out if needed!"

Without needing to be told twice, the others grab whatever gems they dug up, and make their way to the exit. Likewise, you hoist the huge diamond under one arm and follow suit.

A mighty, ear-splitting crash sounds off behind you. Glancing back for a moment, you notice the place where you were stood not five seconds ago is nothing but rocks. Three thoughts occur. Thought number one; thank goodness there weren't any more dogs behind you. Thought number two; perhaps you were a little too careless digging up that diamond. Thought number three; Holy crap, hurry up and get out of there or you're going to die.

You're keen to listen to that third thought more than the other two. Using your free hand, you bound across the cavern floor like a wild animal running from a predator. In this case, said predator would be another falling chunk of the cavern's ceiling that just missed you by inches. Your eyes focus on the mouth of the cave, giving you something to work toward, distracting your from the sudden onset of exhaustion that threatens to slow you down... this gem is far heavier than you could've imagined, but that inherent foolishness that comes with the Diamond Dog's very nature refuses to let go of it.

Everyone else has made it into the daylight - rare as it is for your species to do such a thing - and you're the only one still in the cave. You can hear them yelling words of encouragement as the very world seems to tumble from above. Two swift clouts of pain ring from the back of your skull - one falling rock struck you, then another - but you're far too tough to let that stop you as you press on through the earthy debris.

Then tragedy; you hadn't noticed a single rock jutting out from the floor. So close to freedom, you trip and fall to the ground, landing flat on your face (not that your kin care about facial features or anything). Lifting your head up, your workers are reaching their paws out, trying to spur you back onto your feet, though none of them are brave enough to get back into the cave itself to help. You'd blame them... if you wouldn't do the same.

Before you can even think, a sickening CRUNCH cuts through the rumblings of the cave. Agony suddenly grips your left hind leg, and shoots though you like thunder; its rare to hear a Diamond Dog howl in pain quite so loudly. Amidst your struggle to recuperate, you look at the source of your pain; your left leg. A huge rock, almost the size of the cave's mouth itself, had crushed it during those few seconds you were sprawled on the ground. You can't even see the leg itself any more; just canine blood and... OH GODS, IS THAT BONE STICKING OUT!?!?

You stifle a cry of dismay at the damage before turning to your comrades just outside the entrance. None of them are spurring you on anymore; they all know a hopeless situation when they see it.

You know how to make the most from a losing situation too; in one last ditch effort to compensate for your slowness, you do the most Diamond Dog-like thing ever; you harness all of your remaining strength to fling the diamond you'd been carrying out of harm's way. By Tartarus, if you can't save yourself, may as well make the most from a lose-lose situation. Died like a true Diamond Dog.

The last thing you see before you're buried under rock is the diamond landing safely on the brown dirt at your bosses' feet.

*******

And once again, you wake up in a cold sweat.

Your shaking paw reaches out to the bedside lamp. Click. It takes a moment or two for your canine eyes to adjust to the light. You let your eyes wander as you lie in your soft bed, taking in the details of your room. Whatever takes your mind off... well, that.

Everything in this room is so... clean. There's not a rock nor a patch of dirt in sight. The room has windows - windows! - behind fancy light-blocking curtains. An ornate carpet covers the floor. A light, calming hue of paint covers the walls. A bookshelf, its books in no real order, covers one wall in particular. There's a wardrobe and some drawers, mostly empty save for a few vests; you Diamond Dogs seldom wear much else. Part of you wonders why ponies insist on having wardrobes; they aren't much better with the whole "clothing" thing.

Unless "fashion" is involved, then they don't shut their damned traps. But since you live in their territory now, you guess you'll have to put up with the locals.

Yes, moving to Canterlot sure was an odd move for a Diamond Dog such as yourself. Ever since that fateful incident, the other workmates managed to dig you out of the rubble with some... difficulties. Because of the condition you were in when they dragged you out of there, they could no longer accept you as a worker. Your boss however, as a sign of good faith, allowed you to keep the massive diamond you so foolishly rescued.

Luckily, said gem was worth way more than you thought; it managed to buy this luxury apartment in the rich sector of Canterlot, with all the bells and whistles one could ever ask for. That's the funny thing about ponies; they attach gems and rubies and whatnot to their fancy "fashion" dresses and saddles and whatever all the time, but if you show a particular gem, of a particular size, with a particular colouration, to a particular pony of particular wealth... they freak out and give you six-star accommodation for life in exchange for it. And a whole bunch of shiny gold things they call "bits". Ponies are weird, man.

Your train of thought then raises a valid point; you think the ponies are weird? Imagine what they must think of you. You've been living here for almost two months now, and most of them still stop and stare whenever you pass by. Heck, that's one reason why you've become completely nocturnal; a lot less ponies go out at night. That and the whole "sunlight" thing is rather irritating to a creature that's spent most of its life underground.

Speaking of night, you can sense the daylight fading from behind those drawn curtains. Sunset approaches, so you might as well get up now. You need new books from the Canterlot library anyway.

You pull back the silky-soft bedsheets, revealing the rest of your body. Same old Diamond Dog fur, though admittedly cleaner than it used to be. Same hulking great forearms and knuckles; a trait that any dog would be proud of. Same paws. Same tail. Same body.

The same old stump where your left leg used to be. Maybe that's what the ponies stare at.