Cassandra's Cryby MajadinChaptersPrologue: A Choice Profound is Bittersweet...Chapter One: Deeper, Sadder Eyes...Chapter Two: Leading Backwards Into Forgiveness...Chapter Three: You Can't Erase A Poet's Fate...Not Even If You Try...Chapter Four: Are You Listening Now?Epilogue: No One Hears Cassandra CryPrologue: A Choice Profound is Bittersweet...His earliest memories were of warmth and food-milk-scent, and of other bodies pushing him around while he struggled against them for a place. He was smaller than the others, and mother-food-warm had only so much, and he was too small, too quiet to get noticed. When the hurt-hungry-sad in his belly became too much, he cried, though he couldn't hear it at the time, and only then did things change. Smooth-gentle-touch lifted him from the warm to a different warm, giving him food that didn't smell like mother-food-warm but filled his tummy without struggle from bigger bodies. Smooth-Gentle-Touch smelled new, and he grew to love that touch more than the scent of mother-food-warm and the Many-Bodies-Shoving. As he grew older, his eyes opened, his ears became a window to a world of sound, and he began to understand more. Mother-Food-Warm became Mother, and he knew she was tired. The Many-Bodies-Shoving were his littermates, many of them, too many for Mother alone to take care of all of them. As Smallest, he was forgotten in favor of Biggest-Bite and Jumps-on-Everyone, he did not seek attention like Sings-to-Night, Crooked-Ears, Growler, or Eats-Too-Much, and he wasn't as interested in the bouncing play of Nose-Goes-Everywhere and Pounce-Tail-Tugger. Not that Smallest cared—there was too much of interest in the two-legged creature that he recognized as Smooth-Gentle-Touch. He would spend his waking moments watching, confused but learning, some from Mother, but more from Smooth-Gentle-Touch. Smallest learned that the two-legs were Pack-But-Not-Pack, that they were another kind who lived and loved like Pack, with Pack, and that they came in shapes and sizes of all kinds. He learned that they came with faces and feelings he understood but did not know how he knew, particularly since their chattering mouth sounds were as meaningless as the ones made by the fluffy-thing-out-the-see-through-stone or flappy-things-that-flew. Smooth-Gentle-Touch was old and male, but his paw-touch and rough mouth sounds meant more to Smallest than anything, and Smallest would seek him out whenever he could. Smooth-Gentle-Touch always saw and heard Smallest, always had time and good-feelings for him, and in turn, Smallest loved the old two-leg with all he was. Those early days in his life had little meaning, stretching into some obscure and hazy notion of Before, Now, After, into an idea he barely grasped called Many. They were good days, and despite being Smallest, he was happy, Smooth-Gentle-Touch was happy, and life was good. Even the days when his food changed to soft crunchies that smelled of Tasty, he was happy, unlike his littermates who cried when Mother would not let them at the food she had anymore. That was when he and his littermates began seeing many new two-legs, often small two-legs that his nose told him were pups to the larger ones. When this happened, they would play with his littermates, and make many loud cries, all of them smelling of excitement and happy. And sometimes, something he could not quite understand happened, where a two-leg would stare at one of his littermates and they would stare back, and then the two-leg would take that littermate to their pack. Those times, it meant that his littermate would leave with the two-leg’s pack, and not return. At first, it frightened him, this strange Choosing, and he hid, shivering, in Smooth-Gentle-Touch’s lap, not wanting to be Chosen….but when Smooth-Gentle-Touch reassured him with petting and soft mouth-sounds, Smallest realized that the two-leg smelled of happy with each Choosing--and so did Mother. So he put aside fear in a desire to understand why the Choosing was so important, and he continued to watch and listen in silence, not wanting to be noticed. None of the new two-legs seemed to notice him anyway, but that was alright—many were young and small and much like his littermates: loud and bouncy. Then everything changed and he understood why the two-legs were Pack-But-Not-Pack. Why the Choosing happened. What happened with a Choosing. That day was like any other day with new small two-legs coming to play with his littermates, making happy sounds as they tumbled over each other, tails wagging. Except one little two-leg didn't. Small, thin, she hid back from sight, watching with large eyes. She didn't smell of happy, like all the others. She smelled of fear, of worry, of something he couldn't name... It called to Smallest, tugged on something inside him that he hadn’t felt before. For the first time, he left Smooth-Gentle-Touch’s side. His paw steps were quick but careful, weaving through the forest of towering legs so much bigger than him, unnoticed. None of the two-legs even looked down at him, and he reached the small-female whose scent made him sad. Unlike his littermates, he didn't bark or whine or jump for her attention--instead he sat down in front of her, one forepaw touching her hind-paw. She looked down at him, startled, and when he only wagged his tail, her scent changed, fear giving way to happy. She glanced around again, flinching when one of the other two-legs moved too fast and too close, and retreated to a nearby corner, fear-scent rising again. Smallest followed her closely, still wagging his tail as she curled up on the floor, shaking, and carefully he climbed into her lap, leaning his whole body against her to offer comfort. Thin arms held him tight, and her face rested against his fur, but her shaking became less the longer he sat there, quietly watching her. This two-legs was like him, he decided, smallest and different, not like the others. She didn't chatter like every other two legs, and her touch was careful and warm and soft--she didn't pull on his ears and tail like the others did. Instead, she offered small Tasty food from her pocket, and made tiny sounds of happy when he licked her nose in thanks. This two-leg was special, Smallest decided. He decided something else too—this two-leg was his. And when his two-leg couldn't make the chattering sounds to get her pack’s attention after one of the other two-legs almost trampled them, Smallest did something else new and different. He stood in front of his new two-leg, drew in as much breath as he could, and put everything into a single bark that made the room go silent and still as eyes turned to towards him. He met their gazes and then settled back down in his two-leg’s lap, feeling her hug him tight, pressing a damp face to his neck. That day Smallest found more than a new home. He found his purpose, his Chosen human, and a Name. That was the day Smallest became Spike. Author's Note Once again, I apologize for the chapter delay on the main story, so I hope these two chapters make up for it! Chapter One: Deeper, Sadder Eyes...Smallest did not go with his new two-leg right after the Choosing. Instead, her pack stayed until all the other two-legs had left, the large two-legs—his two-leg’s Mother and her mate—chattering with Smooth-Gentle-Touch, waving their front paws at him, at his small two-leg. It wasn't bad—the more they chattered, the more the female he was cuddling smelled of happy and excited, and soon she started making sounds at him. It was not the howling chatter of the other small two-legs, but a steady stream of quiet noises, one repeated over and over as she touched his nose with her paw gently. He understood it must be a Name, this repeated mouth sound directed at him, but only when he heard the larger two-legs call a single set of sounds at his new friend repeatedly, until she looked up at them. Two-legs Named with mouth-sounds, he realized, instead of the knowing and feeling of Pack kind. That meant the mouth sounds of Naming were important to his new two-leg...and if it was important to her, Smallest would learn. His small two-leg smelled of happy and sad, carrying him to her pack. When they chattered inquisitively at her, she proudly repeated the Name she had given Smallest. He committed the sounds to memory, Smallest-who-was-now-Spike, and and made a soft yip when she said it, to let her know he understood, his ears focused on her. All the two-legs made sounds of happy, and the Mother two-leg repeated the Name, reaching a paw out for him to sniff. He yipped again, and that earned him soft ear scratchies that felt good. The knowing he couldn't explain told him that his small two-leg’s pack accepted him. So when Smooth-Gentle-Touch took him from his two leg’s paws, Smallest-who-was-Spike cried out in confusion and something like pain. Why was his two-leg being taken from him? He had Chosen, they belonged with each other. He fought with everything he had to get to her, against the paws that he had always loved, desperate to wiggle free, eyes and ears and nose fixated on the two-leg that was his. It was so unlike him that Smooth-Gentle-Touch almost dropped him, and his new friend ran forward to stop his fall. He pawed at her, whining and licking, not understanding, because he was supposed to be with her now. That was how this worked. She pressed her short nose to his head, giving soft Name sounds to him, pulling him back into her arms. Mother intervened at last, padding over on heavy paws. She took Smallest-Spike from his two-leg by the scruff, before curling up with him, her tongue grooming his fur gently. In a way he could understand better, she soothed his fear. His Choosing was good, but his two-leg was different, he was different, and so the Things That Are were different....but he would see his two-leg again. Smallest-Spike watched the two-leg pack leave, his Chosen two-leg watching him until her Mother pulled her away....and for the first time in a while Smallest-Spike cried himself to sleep. The warm light of the sun came and went several times, and became the beginning of the Time of New Games, where Smallest-Spike was alone with Smooth-Gentle-Touch. The New Games were strange, and he could not understand at first the why of them. The old male would make distressed mouth sounds, even though he did not smell of hurt or sad, and when Smallest-Spike would investigate why, he would get ear scratchies and a new Tasty called a Treat. Smallest-Spike decided he liked Treats. Soon he found he knew before Smooth-Gentle-Touch was going to make the bad mouth sounds, and positioned himself nearby, still trying to understand why this happened. The two-leg was not hurt, or sad...but made sounds like he was. Smallest-Spike began to wonder...he was different, his two-leg was different. She smelled of sad and fear a lot, and had trouble making mouth sounds to tell other two-legs. What if they could not see or smell happy and sad like he could, and that was why they used only mouth sounds. If that was true...then his two-leg would not be seen as sad or full of fear. Only made of quiet. Was that what the New Games were for? Was it like when he barked for her? If that was so, then the New Games were Important, and Smallest-Spike must learn. He watched and listened and learned the mouth sounds. This for sad, this for hurt, this for needing help. He kept his ears perked on the chattering, learning new mouth sounds. He soon understood No and Good and Good Boy. He learned Sit and Stay. With some effort Hush resolved into a request for silence, and Help was a need for him to realize something was wrong. Smallest-Spike was bigger and stronger when his small two-leg finally returned to him, and he scampered over to her, sitting proudly before her to show off that he was no longer smallest, even if he was still small. She smelled of happy, touching his fur and making the soft mouth sounds at him, calling his Name again and again. He leaned into her, taking in her scent. She smelled of Outside, of fading worry/fear, of happy, and of Tasty food, and he wondered if he would go with her to her pack’s home now. Not yet, was the answer. Instead, she joined him in the New Games each day, brought by the two-leg Mother. Smooth-Gentle-Touch spoke soft mouth sounds to her, and in turn Twilight—he learned her Name then too, since the older two-legs used it often—played the games with him. He learned even more sounds—words, they were called—and to get things for Twilight, or to help her when she could not do for herself. Twilight also played real games with him. She was good at tug-the-toy and toss-the-ball, and she gave the best belly-rubs. When they played, she made many sounds of happy and sometimes excited squeaking sounds...but sometimes she came and was quiet and not-happy. It wasn't sad, but it was different, and those times, Twilight did not like playing...or loud sounds, or touch from anyone but Smallest-Spike. Those times, he would sit with her, and Twilight would touch his fur, cry into it, and sometimes shake, just like when they first met. It gave Smallest-Spike time to think. Twilight was small, like him, and he had not smelled any littermates on her. He decided she was not much older than he was, and the only pup in her litter…or at least the only one still here. He wondered if Twilight had been fed strange food like him, and if being small, alone, and different was what made her not-happy sometimes. He made the decision that it was when she was not-happy that was when she needed him most, because only Smallest-Spike made her feel happy again, and he began to watch for the moments of not-happy, of fear and of sad, so he could help. He learned the words and the New Games with a dedicated need—focusing with all he was in a way that left the two-legs smelling of surprise. Except for Twilight—when he learned, she smelled only of happy, and she gave him hugs and Treats, scratching his ears and calling him Good Boy. Good Boy was the highest praise, and Smallest-Spike was determined to be a Good Boy and help his Chosen two-leg, to protect and help her no matter what. Spike stirred from his nap, from dreams of Before, of memories of when he was Smallest. Something deep inside barked a warning, that the Bad-Thing was coming. Was near. His hackles bristled, and he leapt from his bed to seek Twilight. The Bad-Thing would not have them without a fight. He found her, putting on a backpack—but it was dark, and the sun slept. He barked worriedly, pawing at her leg. Was she going to go out when the Bad Thing was near? Could she not feel it? “Oh, hi Spike….I’m sorry, but you cant come tonight. I have too much to carry, so you have to stay here.” Stay? Yes, Twilight needed to Stay too. Spike barked, trying to tug her away from the door. They needed to go find a safe place to hide from the Bad Thing. “No, Spike, stop it.” He tugged harder, whining and trying to push her deeper into the house. “I said that’s enough! Bad Dog!” He let go, stung by being told he was Bad….but determined to keep her safe. Spike let go, but stood between Twilight and the door, growling. He could feel the Bad Thing getting closer. “What has gotten into you today?” Twilight was upset with him now. “Go lay down, Spike. I’ll be back in a few hours—I’m just going to the park. I’ll be fine.” No. Twilight had to Stay. He growled louder as she approached the door, but she nudged him firmly out of the way. “Spike! I’ll take you for a walk tomorrow, but if you don't stop, I will put you in your kennel!” That gave him pause. If he couldn't convince her to stop, and she locked him in the small den, he could try and get to her another way. He whined and yipped plaintively. “Go on, I filled your food and water up—go get a snack and I’ll be back soon.” Twilight pushed him at the kitchen, and got out the door to the outside, shutting it right as he lunged to follow. He hit the hard door and scrabbled frantically at it, barking and howling and baying at her to come back. She didn’t. Spike heard the door lock, and he lunged to his paws, intent on finding another way. The windows were all shut. The garage was shut. It took three tries to open the laundry room door—only to learn the back door was locked. He was trapped, and Twilight was outside. With the Bad Thing. All Spike could do was roam the house, searching for a way to get out, to get to her, barely pausing for any reason, knowing she needed him, and he was failing at what he was supposed to do… She was gone too long. The moon went to its bed and the sun was high in the sky before he detected the sound of someone opening the door, long enough that he had to use the Inside Potty Paper and his food bowl was empty. By the time he got to her, Twilight had staggered in and shut away the Outside. He lunged at her to make sure she was unhurt. That was when he smelled it. The Bad Thing. It was all over Twilight, along with a stranger’s scent. The Stranger reeked of the Bad Thing, of pain, of hurt, of angry. And Twilight, wrapped in another two-legs furs, smelled of sad and hurt and fear. Spike whimpered, pawing at her as she picked him up and hugged tight, licking a face that tasted of salt and sad. He couldn’t stop the Bad Thing, but he could help now. So he rubbed his nose against her, licked her face and let her hold him tight all the way to her bed. And when she shook and cried, tears soaking his fur, broken words he did not understand trying to tell him what happened, he listened. He stayed. It was nothing he could understand, but that wasn’t important. Important was making her happy, staying with her until she felt Safe again. But Spike didn’t know how to do that. Twilight did not feel happy. She did not feel safe. She jumped at sudden sounds, she cried when none of her pack was around, and she did not rest. She shrank back from shadows and grew afraid to go outside….and worse, she hid it from her pack. The Bad Thing had wounded her, but it was not a wound Spike could lick better. Then came the day she returned home, and she smiled at him and smelled of the faintest bits of happy… But she also smelled like The Stranger Who Smelled of the Bad Thing. And then the scent grew stronger, and he heard movement of another two-leg entering. She had brought The Stranger back with her! Spike immediately charged, putting himself between Twilight and The Stranger, baring his teeth and growling, interspersed with barks to alert the pack of the danger, all while getting a good look at this Stranger who stank of the Bad Thing and pain. Twilight picked him up, and he pinned his ears back more firmly. The Stranger needed to leave. “Spike! Be nice to Sunset! She's a friend!” Friend? No. Stranger-Sunset was Bad. And looking into her eyes, Spike realized Stranger-Sunset knew that. So why did she Stay? Chapter Two: Leading Backwards Into Forgiveness...Stranger-Sunset kept coming over. No matter how much Spike growled and barked to warn his pack of the danger that they could not feel, they let her in every time she appeared. Twilight called her friend, and smelled of happy whenever she was there, and the two danced around each other in the weird courtship that two-legs had, just as Shiny-brother and Cady-sister had. Sunset wanted to be Twilight’s mate. Spike did not approve. She stank of The Bad Thing, of guilt and pain, and she knew it. She seemed the only two-leg that felt what he did. His Twilight deserved a mate who didn’t bring those things to the den. Not that any of the pack listened to him. No…Mother-Velvet-Soft treated Stranger-Sunset like a lost pup that was now hers, and Father-Night-Wise showed careful kindness, as if he believed he might make her afraid. Cady-sister smelled of nothing but happy, and from what Spike saw, encouraged the courtship between Twilight and Stranger-Sunset. Even Shiny-brother, who also protected the pack, welcomed her without more than passing concern. The moon changed her face twice over and Stranger-Sunset-Who-Smelled-of-The-Bad-Thing came over more and more, and nothing Spike did seemed to discourage her. Or convince Twilight that the one she saw as a potential mate was a threat. Their courtship didn't stop, instead advancing at the slow pace of two-legs, and always away from any eyes but his own. It was as though they knew it was a bad idea. So Spike waited. He watched. Stranger-Sunset knew he was watching. Eventually something would happen, and he would do his job and drive her away, once Twilight saw that she was connected to The Bad Thing. And then It happened. Twilight had been restless for days, her sleep broken and full of bad dreams…she called out in her sleep, sometimes for Stranger-Sunset, other times with a voice that was not her own, in a language that Spike did not speak but that he could feel. It was a cry of desperation and despair, of great pain…. …and that’s when he felt it. The same tingle in the air, the heaviness and discomfort in his tummy like he’d eaten bad meat. The Bad Thing had returned, bigger than before. There was danger…danger that Twilight felt too. It built and built for three more days, until he thought he might collapse from being on alert without rest…and then something Changed. It happened when Twilight took him out back to potty. Something fought the Bad Thing. It was a New Thing, made of Pack-Love and the Choosing and the way the seasons turned and the moon changed her face, of the life hidden in stone and dirt and the song of the stars at night. It was powerful, and it rang with the Voice of All-Those-Packs-Before, of hoof and paw and wing and claw, and it denied The Bad Thing. Spike stopped sniffing the bushes and bolted to be next to Twilight when it did, turning towards the feeling, hackles raised and on edge in case The Bad Thing ran towards them. It did not. It broke apart as the world cried in relief, and the New Thing…The Good Thing…passed over and through them, leaving Spike feeling as though he had just woken from a good sleep on a fully belly. The touch of The Good Thing, he noted, lingered around Twilight, sinking into her the way a scent might sink into the couch. Yet she did not seem to notice, only stared at the small brick that made noise, mumbling about Stranger-Sunset. Spike urged her back inside all the same—the outside was too open, and in the den was safe, especially with the rest of the pack-family gone for a while. He had to keep Twilight safe this time. Which he did, for a long while as the sun went to sleep and the moon rose… Then the brick made noise and Twilight spoke to it, even as Stranger-Sunset’s voice came out the other side. He growled, grumbled, and was summarily ignored by his two-legs as she told Stranger-Sunset, “Come over.” Spike had hoped that The Good Thing had chased Stranger-Sunset away too. Spike was not that lucky. All too soon, he heard the beast with two ball-feet roaring, and then go silent in the yard, followed by the knocking. Twilight opened the door to let Stranger-Sunset in, despite the reek of The Bad Thing in the air… But then Sunset came in…and Spike froze. Something was different. He sniffed and watched. She smelled still of The Bad Thing, it clinging to her skin like smoke and water, but…it wasn't coming from her. Instead, coming from her, and fighting the remnants of The Bad Thing…was part of The Good Thing. Not the whole of it, but part…like one member of a pack of many. And when Twilight touched Sunset-Stranger-Stinking-of-Bad, The Good Thing part was stronger… He watched. Waited. Followed on quiet paws as Twilight made Sunset take a dreaded bath, made her eat stinky water made with plants--not as good as the tasty meat water, in his opinion--oh, and bread. Bread was good, and Sunset-Stranger even dropped some for him. She did do that sometimes, dropping him food he wasn't supposed to have. He observed and smelled, and looked deeper and thought harder than most of his kind ever had to, hard enough that it hurt a little. Sunset…was hurt. Inside, outside. Tired. Hungry. And she was covered in The Bad Thing like she had rolled in it…but inside her was part of The Good Thing, small but strong. She smelled of a pack of others, all reeking of the same stress-tired-pain-triumph. Spike jumped up to the bed as he reached a conclusion. He had been wrong. Been fooled by a hunter’s tactic—Sunset had not been The Bad Thing. She hunted The Bad Thing. She was not Sunset-Stranger-Who-Brought-The-Bad-Thing…She was Sunset-Protector, and she had stopped the Bad Thing twice now. Protected Twilight from it, when he could not. That made her a friend. An ally in keeping Twilight safe. Curling up between the pair, he wagged his tail at her as she talked with Twilight, resting his chin comfortingly on her leg as she cried and cuddled with his two-leg, more convinced than ever that he had figured out the strangeness. The guilt-pain-fear had been because she was hunting something dangerous, and she was young, like Twilight. That was probably her first hunt without her Mother. With her own pack, all young and new to hunting, especially against The Bad Thing, which was a lot bigger than the small chittery prey he chased in the yard. Sunset-Protector fell asleep, and Spike decided that he would keep watch for her. She worked hard to protect his pack, his Chosen two-leg, so he would protect her when she needed to rest and heal. Twilight scratched his ears and told him he was a Good Boy—maybe she had not been as unaware as he had assumed. And maybe…just maybe, Sunset-Protector was a good mate for Twilight after all. Author's Note This has been in the works a while. Two more chapters to go on this short. More background to what Spike witnesses... Bruhahaha. Chapter Three: You Can't Erase A Poet's Fate...Not Even If You Try...The Bad Thing was hunting Twilight. This was something Spike had learned after his discovery that Sunset-Protector was one who hunted The Bad Thing. Sunset had barely recovered when the smell of The Bad Thing returned, this time coming home with Twilight when she went to the School-Place. It had always been stinky, smelling of the things called books and many growing two-legs all old enough to seek mates but too young to make their own dens, just like his Twilight. Spike did not know what they did there, but he assumed it was a lot of showing off while they learned to hunt the way two-legs did—which was silly, since Twilight was smart and clever and made many things in her Making-Den, and she already had a good mate…or would if they would hurry up with their courtship. He really didn't understand why they were waiting—both clearly wanted to be mates, but they smelled of fear, and did not show their courtship where others could see. It wasn't like the family didn't know. Mother-Velvet-Soft got excited when the two were together, and was encouraging them in every way she could without speaking, and Father-Night-Wise was clearly satisfied with Sunset-Protector as a potential mate for his youngest pup. Shiny-brother respected her, and Cady-sister jumped with joy whenever Twilight talked to her alone about the courting. But when The Bad Thing started hunting Twilight…he wondered if Sunset-Protector was afraid of exactly that—The Bad Thing hunting her mate to hurt her. Twilight didn't seem entirely aware, but Sunset was. The first time it happened, The Good Thing that was in Sunset attacked The Bad Thing and killed it, and Sunset stayed close, protecting the Den. Yet it kept coming. Mostly on Twilight, but then it rose from Shiny-brother too, and Sunset-Protector became Sunset-Protector-Fire, burning The Bad Things away with fire only Spike could see, and keeping it from attacking Mother-Velvet-Soft anymore. Twilight had grown angry, and jealous, and fled to be angry and hurt in her room—Spike had gone with her, to help, but all she did was be angry at her family and Sunset. It was an anger that did not go away, even if she hid it, and no matter how much Sunset burned away The Bad Thing, Spike could feel it, deep inside Twilight like a tummy worm, a little bit of Bad trying to eat the Good Thing in Twilight that was growing. That was also new. It was not a pup, but it was something that was part of Twilight, a tiny Good Thing that smelled like The Good Thing in Sunset-Protector-Fire, one that was growing stronger everyday, and that The Good Thing in Sunset was very clearly trying to protect. Spike did not understand the all the ways The Good Things and Bad Things interacted, but they were clearly enemies. The Bad Thing was bad, it did Bad, so The Good Thing stopped it and killed it. But the Bad Thing fought back, and sometimes it hurt Sunset-Protector-Fire…sometimes badly, and she would come to the Den smelling of pain and tired and weakness. Those days, Spike did what he could to guard Sunset while she licked her wounds and The Good Thing inside her grew strong again when the family made her happy, when Twilight fussed over her and curled up with her the way a mate should. The anger was still in Twilight, and the fear. It fed The Bad Thing, and it gave her nightmares and made her talk to herself, The Good Thing and The Bad Thing fighting over Twilight like a tug toy. She acted funny, smelled funny, acted scared and suspicious of her own pack and hid away in the Making-Den or the School-Place. Spike tried to help, to make her feel better, to show her that something was wrong…to tell the family that something was so very wrong… But Spike could not speak the way the two-legs did, and while they seemed to realize something was wrong…they didn't know what, and he had no way to tell them, no matter how he barked and howled and whined. He still did his best, trying to soothe Twilight’s bad feelings and warn Sunset as soon as she came over when the Bad Thing had come again. Her Good Thing would cover Twilight like a blanket, feeding the growing Good Thing inside Twilight, and drive back The Bad Thing as much as it could, and all would be well for some days. She, at least, seemed to know what was happening…even if she couldn't tell the family either. Maybe she didn't know the right sounds? Spike thought it might have gotten better, when he went to stay at Cady-sister and Shiny-brother’s den, and came back to find Twilight smelling of happy and The Bad Thing all gone and The Good Thing inside her stronger than ever. She was covered in Sunset’s scent, and it seemed that they had finally chosen to be mates after all. Perhaps The Bad Thing had finally been beaten, and it would stop hunting his Twilight. Spike would like that. Sunset-Protector-Fire would like that too, Spike decided. She did not like Twilight’s School-Place, at all, growling and making angry faces when it was talked about, and she got very protective when Twilight was upset about the School-Place, which happened more and more. Spike did not get his wish. The moon had barely turned her face when something changed again. Twilight grew angry again, and smelled of hurt and upset and sad and scared, and she fought with everyone. She made angry sounds at Sunset, driving Sunset back, hurting her with words more than if she had bit and scratched, and then she hid in her room, crying and stinking of pain and tired and sad and angry and Bad. ….and Sunset-Protector-Fire… Was Broken. She did not seem to hear or see anything other than the shiny stone Twilight had thrown on the ground. She did not cry, but The Good Thing inside her seemed cracked now, and he smelled pain and fear and something else. Some deep, broken hurt inside her that stank of The Bad Thing, but also The Good Thing. And then she left, even when Mother-Velvet-Soft tried to get her to Stay, when Father-Night-Wise tried to talk to both females…even Spike climbing in her lap and offering cuddles and showing her that Twilight was wrong, that something Wrong and Bad had happened didn't get her to Stay. Instead, Spike watched as Sunset-Protector-Broken…left the Den… It hurt Spike inside, and he felt was sorry he had ever wished for Sunset to leave…because she had made Twilight happy, had protected her and made his Chosen two-leg alive and free, like no one else. She was a good mate, a strong packmate…and as he saw how Twilight was also Broken and angry and hurt, he realized something else. There was another kind of Choosing, between Twilight and Sunset…something more than just mates, something tied up in the wounded Good Things inside them both… And Spike was afraid that if they did not make things right… Then The Bad Thing would destroy The Good Things in both of them. He had to help them. Author's Note One Chapter left. Chapter Four: Are You Listening Now?The instant he woke up, Spike could feel it. The air was charged and vibrating, and not just from the storm he could smell on the wind when he went outside. The Bad Thing was on the hunt. Today was the day it would attack, like it had the other two big times. All the other animals knew too—the flying things and the skittering things and the things in holes were all hiding today, quiet and afraid, and he heard the barking that was sending waves of warnings to his kind across the city. He even joined in when he was out in the yard, howling to the wind that The Bad Thing was after his two-leg, and hearing the cries of the pack-born echoing in reply, support as they fought their collars and leads so they could defend their humans. Twilight was agitated, angry and restless. She had not slept much in the days before, staying late in the Making-Den and muttering about Sunset. She left early, avoiding the family, and he tried to follow her, determined not to leave her to be hunted, but she caught him and put him back inside. After she was gone, he paced by the door, trying to figure out how to get to her…or Sunset. Sunset-Protector-Fire would fight The Bad Thing if it came, even while Broken and hurt, and he knew, deep down…she would need him today. Maybe if he could get let out to go potty, he could hunt her that way…but he did not know where she was. When Mother-Velvet-Soft came down he whined and barked and cried and tried to make her see she needed to get Sunset or Twilight or both of them…but she did not understand, trying to soothe him with tummy rubs and cuddles and treats. How he wished he could speak like a two-leg, to tell her in her own kind’s way of sharing, what was wrong. But he couldn’t. And so he paced and whined and trued again and again to show her that her pup was in trouble, bringing her things of Twilight’s, trying to show her the Making-Den, even bringing her her shoes and his vest. Nothing worked. Spike whined, desolate, and felt as though he was going to fail Twilight again, fail at protecting her from the greatest danger she could face. Did pack-born who Failed their Chosen two-leg still go to the Good Green Place of Pack Who Came Before? Or were they forgotten in the shadow of the moon, a place she never turned her face? Despair like he had never felt before gripped him, and he lay, defeated, under the table in the kitchen, head aching from the depth of his morose thoughts. Until…hope came, in the form of Cady-Sister. She arrived, chattering and determined, and on her, he smelled The Good Thing that often clung to Sunset-Protector, and the scent of Cady-Sister and Shiny-Brother’s other packmate, whose scent had come to be intertwined with The Good Thing since Sunset-Protector-Fire had appeared. His head came up and he listened as she spoke with Mother-Velvet-Soft, and while he did not understand all of it, he understood enough to know she was going to where Sunset and Twilight were to protect Twilight. Spike bolted out from under the table and stood before her, barking once, putting as much of himself into it as he could, just as he had the day he had been Chosen. Cady-Sister stopped and stared down at him. “Spike?” “I think he is worried about Twily, sweetie. He has been beside himself all morning. I think he knows something is wrong.” She knelt down in front of him, searching his face. “Do you, Spike? Do you know that something is wrong?” This was his chance. He could not speak as they did…but he knew one gesture that Twilight had understood always. Spike sat, very slowly and deliberately, still holding Cady-Sister’s stare, and nodded his head once. There! Understanding was in her eyes and scent, and she touched his head. “Alright. Go get your vest, little man.” She looked up. “Mom…I think maybe I should take him with me. She might need him…and if she is there, he’ll know faster than me. He is certified.” Mother-Velvet-Soft smiled, but she smelled of worry and sad. “Take the extra copy of his paperwork,” she said. Then her eyes turned to Spike, and he felt his heart swell as he felt Seen. “Spike…you take care of my babies. You're a good dog, and I know you won’t let anything happen to them.” Spike stood taller than he ever had and barked once, before running to where his vest was, grabbing it and his leash in his teeth and taking it back to them. Cady-Sister squatted to put his vest on him and attach his leash to it. “If Cinch tries anything, Mom, we’ll make sure Twilight is safe before we have the bitch arrested, and Lu said she’s happy to testify on our behalf if it comes to it.” “Just be careful, sweetheart. It might just be me being overly cautious, but Sunset made some very scary yet astute observations about the things Abacus might do.” Hugs were given all around, and then Spike practically dragged Cady-Sister to the car. Time was running out! Author's Note Just an epilogue to go. But that wont be for a few weeks yet. Epilogue: No One Hears Cassandra CryHe was with Cady-Sister and her strange dark packmate who was touched by the Good Thing, fighting the Bad Things that wanted to hurt the young two-legs in the strange den. The Bad Things smelled terrible and tasted worse when he bit them, but that was less important than making them go away and protecting Cady-Sister while they hunted for Twilight. Spike had wanted to stay with Sunset-Protector-Fire, but hadn't been allowed, and so he was doing his best to pull them in the direction he knew Twilight was. If only there were fewer Bad Things, or if two legs weren't so slow! Spike was tearing out the throat of a pointy eared Bad Thing, snarling and telling it exactly what he thought of it while Cady-Sister shot things at its bigger friend that smelled like bad water and long dead things, when he Felt it. Every hair on him stood up, and he froze, trying to understand. It was a feeling inside him, one he had not felt since the Choosing, and it whispered in a way greater than even the knowing his kind were born with. He had to get to Sunset-Protector-Fire, and he had to do it now. He didn’t know why, or for what exactly, but he had to. Without waiting for the fight to end or for Cady-Sister to see him, Spike leapt off the dying Bad Thing, and bolted down the hall as fast as he could in the direction the feeling was calling to him. This…this was why he was here. Why he had been born and lived when the Smallest usually did not. This was why he was Chosen. Why he had been trained, and what the strange feelings and smells and knowings had been driving him towards for many turnings of the moon’s face. This day, this time. He was here because Twilight needed him…because Sunset-Protector-Fire could not save her without his help. They had to save Twilight together, or their favorite two-leg would die. Toenails skittered on old tile, as Spike zigged and zagged to dodge shadows and other two-legs and the Bad Things. He ignored the distant yelling of Cady-Sister calling his name, twisted away from any attempts to grab his collar. They were obstacles, interference that wanted to keep him from Twilight. No. Spike was a Good Boy and his Twilight needed him now. Sunset-Protector-Fire was close—he could feel it, the way the Bad Things cringed away from her like the lowest away from an angry Mother. She was Fire and Burning and Protection and Anger, guiding him right to her. His paws hurt and his jaws were sore and his nose full of bad smells and sickly not-blood made his tummy feel bad…but he pushed himself, and started barking, letting Sunset-Protector-Fire know he was there. That he was here to help save her mate, his Twilight. Spike was a Good Boy, and this was why he was Chosen. To help Twilight’s mate save her from The Bad Thing. To bring her Home, even if they got lost. The whispering inside him was stronger, flooding him with a knowing that spoke of the Choosing, of the places he could go to find Twilight, the walls and fences and leashes that could never truly hold him back. Not when Twilight needed him. Needed Sunset-Protector-Fire. Spike would show the Bad Things why you didn’t go after a two-leg who had been Chosen. Because Spike was a Good Boy. Author's Note And that’s a wrap for this one. You’ll see why with the main story’s upcoming chapters. Spike is a Good Boy…most people just never realized how Good. Thanks for reading!
Prologue: A Choice Profound is Bittersweet...His earliest memories were of warmth and food-milk-scent, and of other bodies pushing him around while he struggled against them for a place. He was smaller than the others, and mother-food-warm had only so much, and he was too small, too quiet to get noticed. When the hurt-hungry-sad in his belly became too much, he cried, though he couldn't hear it at the time, and only then did things change. Smooth-gentle-touch lifted him from the warm to a different warm, giving him food that didn't smell like mother-food-warm but filled his tummy without struggle from bigger bodies. Smooth-Gentle-Touch smelled new, and he grew to love that touch more than the scent of mother-food-warm and the Many-Bodies-Shoving. As he grew older, his eyes opened, his ears became a window to a world of sound, and he began to understand more. Mother-Food-Warm became Mother, and he knew she was tired. The Many-Bodies-Shoving were his littermates, many of them, too many for Mother alone to take care of all of them. As Smallest, he was forgotten in favor of Biggest-Bite and Jumps-on-Everyone, he did not seek attention like Sings-to-Night, Crooked-Ears, Growler, or Eats-Too-Much, and he wasn't as interested in the bouncing play of Nose-Goes-Everywhere and Pounce-Tail-Tugger. Not that Smallest cared—there was too much of interest in the two-legged creature that he recognized as Smooth-Gentle-Touch. He would spend his waking moments watching, confused but learning, some from Mother, but more from Smooth-Gentle-Touch. Smallest learned that the two-legs were Pack-But-Not-Pack, that they were another kind who lived and loved like Pack, with Pack, and that they came in shapes and sizes of all kinds. He learned that they came with faces and feelings he understood but did not know how he knew, particularly since their chattering mouth sounds were as meaningless as the ones made by the fluffy-thing-out-the-see-through-stone or flappy-things-that-flew. Smooth-Gentle-Touch was old and male, but his paw-touch and rough mouth sounds meant more to Smallest than anything, and Smallest would seek him out whenever he could. Smooth-Gentle-Touch always saw and heard Smallest, always had time and good-feelings for him, and in turn, Smallest loved the old two-leg with all he was. Those early days in his life had little meaning, stretching into some obscure and hazy notion of Before, Now, After, into an idea he barely grasped called Many. They were good days, and despite being Smallest, he was happy, Smooth-Gentle-Touch was happy, and life was good. Even the days when his food changed to soft crunchies that smelled of Tasty, he was happy, unlike his littermates who cried when Mother would not let them at the food she had anymore. That was when he and his littermates began seeing many new two-legs, often small two-legs that his nose told him were pups to the larger ones. When this happened, they would play with his littermates, and make many loud cries, all of them smelling of excitement and happy. And sometimes, something he could not quite understand happened, where a two-leg would stare at one of his littermates and they would stare back, and then the two-leg would take that littermate to their pack. Those times, it meant that his littermate would leave with the two-leg’s pack, and not return. At first, it frightened him, this strange Choosing, and he hid, shivering, in Smooth-Gentle-Touch’s lap, not wanting to be Chosen….but when Smooth-Gentle-Touch reassured him with petting and soft mouth-sounds, Smallest realized that the two-leg smelled of happy with each Choosing--and so did Mother. So he put aside fear in a desire to understand why the Choosing was so important, and he continued to watch and listen in silence, not wanting to be noticed. None of the new two-legs seemed to notice him anyway, but that was alright—many were young and small and much like his littermates: loud and bouncy. Then everything changed and he understood why the two-legs were Pack-But-Not-Pack. Why the Choosing happened. What happened with a Choosing. That day was like any other day with new small two-legs coming to play with his littermates, making happy sounds as they tumbled over each other, tails wagging. Except one little two-leg didn't. Small, thin, she hid back from sight, watching with large eyes. She didn't smell of happy, like all the others. She smelled of fear, of worry, of something he couldn't name... It called to Smallest, tugged on something inside him that he hadn’t felt before. For the first time, he left Smooth-Gentle-Touch’s side. His paw steps were quick but careful, weaving through the forest of towering legs so much bigger than him, unnoticed. None of the two-legs even looked down at him, and he reached the small-female whose scent made him sad. Unlike his littermates, he didn't bark or whine or jump for her attention--instead he sat down in front of her, one forepaw touching her hind-paw. She looked down at him, startled, and when he only wagged his tail, her scent changed, fear giving way to happy. She glanced around again, flinching when one of the other two-legs moved too fast and too close, and retreated to a nearby corner, fear-scent rising again. Smallest followed her closely, still wagging his tail as she curled up on the floor, shaking, and carefully he climbed into her lap, leaning his whole body against her to offer comfort. Thin arms held him tight, and her face rested against his fur, but her shaking became less the longer he sat there, quietly watching her. This two-legs was like him, he decided, smallest and different, not like the others. She didn't chatter like every other two legs, and her touch was careful and warm and soft--she didn't pull on his ears and tail like the others did. Instead, she offered small Tasty food from her pocket, and made tiny sounds of happy when he licked her nose in thanks. This two-leg was special, Smallest decided. He decided something else too—this two-leg was his. And when his two-leg couldn't make the chattering sounds to get her pack’s attention after one of the other two-legs almost trampled them, Smallest did something else new and different. He stood in front of his new two-leg, drew in as much breath as he could, and put everything into a single bark that made the room go silent and still as eyes turned to towards him. He met their gazes and then settled back down in his two-leg’s lap, feeling her hug him tight, pressing a damp face to his neck. That day Smallest found more than a new home. He found his purpose, his Chosen human, and a Name. That was the day Smallest became Spike. Author's Note Once again, I apologize for the chapter delay on the main story, so I hope these two chapters make up for it!
Chapter One: Deeper, Sadder Eyes...Smallest did not go with his new two-leg right after the Choosing. Instead, her pack stayed until all the other two-legs had left, the large two-legs—his two-leg’s Mother and her mate—chattering with Smooth-Gentle-Touch, waving their front paws at him, at his small two-leg. It wasn't bad—the more they chattered, the more the female he was cuddling smelled of happy and excited, and soon she started making sounds at him. It was not the howling chatter of the other small two-legs, but a steady stream of quiet noises, one repeated over and over as she touched his nose with her paw gently. He understood it must be a Name, this repeated mouth sound directed at him, but only when he heard the larger two-legs call a single set of sounds at his new friend repeatedly, until she looked up at them. Two-legs Named with mouth-sounds, he realized, instead of the knowing and feeling of Pack kind. That meant the mouth sounds of Naming were important to his new two-leg...and if it was important to her, Smallest would learn. His small two-leg smelled of happy and sad, carrying him to her pack. When they chattered inquisitively at her, she proudly repeated the Name she had given Smallest. He committed the sounds to memory, Smallest-who-was-now-Spike, and and made a soft yip when she said it, to let her know he understood, his ears focused on her. All the two-legs made sounds of happy, and the Mother two-leg repeated the Name, reaching a paw out for him to sniff. He yipped again, and that earned him soft ear scratchies that felt good. The knowing he couldn't explain told him that his small two-leg’s pack accepted him. So when Smooth-Gentle-Touch took him from his two leg’s paws, Smallest-who-was-Spike cried out in confusion and something like pain. Why was his two-leg being taken from him? He had Chosen, they belonged with each other. He fought with everything he had to get to her, against the paws that he had always loved, desperate to wiggle free, eyes and ears and nose fixated on the two-leg that was his. It was so unlike him that Smooth-Gentle-Touch almost dropped him, and his new friend ran forward to stop his fall. He pawed at her, whining and licking, not understanding, because he was supposed to be with her now. That was how this worked. She pressed her short nose to his head, giving soft Name sounds to him, pulling him back into her arms. Mother intervened at last, padding over on heavy paws. She took Smallest-Spike from his two-leg by the scruff, before curling up with him, her tongue grooming his fur gently. In a way he could understand better, she soothed his fear. His Choosing was good, but his two-leg was different, he was different, and so the Things That Are were different....but he would see his two-leg again. Smallest-Spike watched the two-leg pack leave, his Chosen two-leg watching him until her Mother pulled her away....and for the first time in a while Smallest-Spike cried himself to sleep. The warm light of the sun came and went several times, and became the beginning of the Time of New Games, where Smallest-Spike was alone with Smooth-Gentle-Touch. The New Games were strange, and he could not understand at first the why of them. The old male would make distressed mouth sounds, even though he did not smell of hurt or sad, and when Smallest-Spike would investigate why, he would get ear scratchies and a new Tasty called a Treat. Smallest-Spike decided he liked Treats. Soon he found he knew before Smooth-Gentle-Touch was going to make the bad mouth sounds, and positioned himself nearby, still trying to understand why this happened. The two-leg was not hurt, or sad...but made sounds like he was. Smallest-Spike began to wonder...he was different, his two-leg was different. She smelled of sad and fear a lot, and had trouble making mouth sounds to tell other two-legs. What if they could not see or smell happy and sad like he could, and that was why they used only mouth sounds. If that was true...then his two-leg would not be seen as sad or full of fear. Only made of quiet. Was that what the New Games were for? Was it like when he barked for her? If that was so, then the New Games were Important, and Smallest-Spike must learn. He watched and listened and learned the mouth sounds. This for sad, this for hurt, this for needing help. He kept his ears perked on the chattering, learning new mouth sounds. He soon understood No and Good and Good Boy. He learned Sit and Stay. With some effort Hush resolved into a request for silence, and Help was a need for him to realize something was wrong. Smallest-Spike was bigger and stronger when his small two-leg finally returned to him, and he scampered over to her, sitting proudly before her to show off that he was no longer smallest, even if he was still small. She smelled of happy, touching his fur and making the soft mouth sounds at him, calling his Name again and again. He leaned into her, taking in her scent. She smelled of Outside, of fading worry/fear, of happy, and of Tasty food, and he wondered if he would go with her to her pack’s home now. Not yet, was the answer. Instead, she joined him in the New Games each day, brought by the two-leg Mother. Smooth-Gentle-Touch spoke soft mouth sounds to her, and in turn Twilight—he learned her Name then too, since the older two-legs used it often—played the games with him. He learned even more sounds—words, they were called—and to get things for Twilight, or to help her when she could not do for herself. Twilight also played real games with him. She was good at tug-the-toy and toss-the-ball, and she gave the best belly-rubs. When they played, she made many sounds of happy and sometimes excited squeaking sounds...but sometimes she came and was quiet and not-happy. It wasn't sad, but it was different, and those times, Twilight did not like playing...or loud sounds, or touch from anyone but Smallest-Spike. Those times, he would sit with her, and Twilight would touch his fur, cry into it, and sometimes shake, just like when they first met. It gave Smallest-Spike time to think. Twilight was small, like him, and he had not smelled any littermates on her. He decided she was not much older than he was, and the only pup in her litter…or at least the only one still here. He wondered if Twilight had been fed strange food like him, and if being small, alone, and different was what made her not-happy sometimes. He made the decision that it was when she was not-happy that was when she needed him most, because only Smallest-Spike made her feel happy again, and he began to watch for the moments of not-happy, of fear and of sad, so he could help. He learned the words and the New Games with a dedicated need—focusing with all he was in a way that left the two-legs smelling of surprise. Except for Twilight—when he learned, she smelled only of happy, and she gave him hugs and Treats, scratching his ears and calling him Good Boy. Good Boy was the highest praise, and Smallest-Spike was determined to be a Good Boy and help his Chosen two-leg, to protect and help her no matter what. Spike stirred from his nap, from dreams of Before, of memories of when he was Smallest. Something deep inside barked a warning, that the Bad-Thing was coming. Was near. His hackles bristled, and he leapt from his bed to seek Twilight. The Bad-Thing would not have them without a fight. He found her, putting on a backpack—but it was dark, and the sun slept. He barked worriedly, pawing at her leg. Was she going to go out when the Bad Thing was near? Could she not feel it? “Oh, hi Spike….I’m sorry, but you cant come tonight. I have too much to carry, so you have to stay here.” Stay? Yes, Twilight needed to Stay too. Spike barked, trying to tug her away from the door. They needed to go find a safe place to hide from the Bad Thing. “No, Spike, stop it.” He tugged harder, whining and trying to push her deeper into the house. “I said that’s enough! Bad Dog!” He let go, stung by being told he was Bad….but determined to keep her safe. Spike let go, but stood between Twilight and the door, growling. He could feel the Bad Thing getting closer. “What has gotten into you today?” Twilight was upset with him now. “Go lay down, Spike. I’ll be back in a few hours—I’m just going to the park. I’ll be fine.” No. Twilight had to Stay. He growled louder as she approached the door, but she nudged him firmly out of the way. “Spike! I’ll take you for a walk tomorrow, but if you don't stop, I will put you in your kennel!” That gave him pause. If he couldn't convince her to stop, and she locked him in the small den, he could try and get to her another way. He whined and yipped plaintively. “Go on, I filled your food and water up—go get a snack and I’ll be back soon.” Twilight pushed him at the kitchen, and got out the door to the outside, shutting it right as he lunged to follow. He hit the hard door and scrabbled frantically at it, barking and howling and baying at her to come back. She didn’t. Spike heard the door lock, and he lunged to his paws, intent on finding another way. The windows were all shut. The garage was shut. It took three tries to open the laundry room door—only to learn the back door was locked. He was trapped, and Twilight was outside. With the Bad Thing. All Spike could do was roam the house, searching for a way to get out, to get to her, barely pausing for any reason, knowing she needed him, and he was failing at what he was supposed to do… She was gone too long. The moon went to its bed and the sun was high in the sky before he detected the sound of someone opening the door, long enough that he had to use the Inside Potty Paper and his food bowl was empty. By the time he got to her, Twilight had staggered in and shut away the Outside. He lunged at her to make sure she was unhurt. That was when he smelled it. The Bad Thing. It was all over Twilight, along with a stranger’s scent. The Stranger reeked of the Bad Thing, of pain, of hurt, of angry. And Twilight, wrapped in another two-legs furs, smelled of sad and hurt and fear. Spike whimpered, pawing at her as she picked him up and hugged tight, licking a face that tasted of salt and sad. He couldn’t stop the Bad Thing, but he could help now. So he rubbed his nose against her, licked her face and let her hold him tight all the way to her bed. And when she shook and cried, tears soaking his fur, broken words he did not understand trying to tell him what happened, he listened. He stayed. It was nothing he could understand, but that wasn’t important. Important was making her happy, staying with her until she felt Safe again. But Spike didn’t know how to do that. Twilight did not feel happy. She did not feel safe. She jumped at sudden sounds, she cried when none of her pack was around, and she did not rest. She shrank back from shadows and grew afraid to go outside….and worse, she hid it from her pack. The Bad Thing had wounded her, but it was not a wound Spike could lick better. Then came the day she returned home, and she smiled at him and smelled of the faintest bits of happy… But she also smelled like The Stranger Who Smelled of the Bad Thing. And then the scent grew stronger, and he heard movement of another two-leg entering. She had brought The Stranger back with her! Spike immediately charged, putting himself between Twilight and The Stranger, baring his teeth and growling, interspersed with barks to alert the pack of the danger, all while getting a good look at this Stranger who stank of the Bad Thing and pain. Twilight picked him up, and he pinned his ears back more firmly. The Stranger needed to leave. “Spike! Be nice to Sunset! She's a friend!” Friend? No. Stranger-Sunset was Bad. And looking into her eyes, Spike realized Stranger-Sunset knew that. So why did she Stay?
Chapter Two: Leading Backwards Into Forgiveness...Stranger-Sunset kept coming over. No matter how much Spike growled and barked to warn his pack of the danger that they could not feel, they let her in every time she appeared. Twilight called her friend, and smelled of happy whenever she was there, and the two danced around each other in the weird courtship that two-legs had, just as Shiny-brother and Cady-sister had. Sunset wanted to be Twilight’s mate. Spike did not approve. She stank of The Bad Thing, of guilt and pain, and she knew it. She seemed the only two-leg that felt what he did. His Twilight deserved a mate who didn’t bring those things to the den. Not that any of the pack listened to him. No…Mother-Velvet-Soft treated Stranger-Sunset like a lost pup that was now hers, and Father-Night-Wise showed careful kindness, as if he believed he might make her afraid. Cady-sister smelled of nothing but happy, and from what Spike saw, encouraged the courtship between Twilight and Stranger-Sunset. Even Shiny-brother, who also protected the pack, welcomed her without more than passing concern. The moon changed her face twice over and Stranger-Sunset-Who-Smelled-of-The-Bad-Thing came over more and more, and nothing Spike did seemed to discourage her. Or convince Twilight that the one she saw as a potential mate was a threat. Their courtship didn't stop, instead advancing at the slow pace of two-legs, and always away from any eyes but his own. It was as though they knew it was a bad idea. So Spike waited. He watched. Stranger-Sunset knew he was watching. Eventually something would happen, and he would do his job and drive her away, once Twilight saw that she was connected to The Bad Thing. And then It happened. Twilight had been restless for days, her sleep broken and full of bad dreams…she called out in her sleep, sometimes for Stranger-Sunset, other times with a voice that was not her own, in a language that Spike did not speak but that he could feel. It was a cry of desperation and despair, of great pain…. …and that’s when he felt it. The same tingle in the air, the heaviness and discomfort in his tummy like he’d eaten bad meat. The Bad Thing had returned, bigger than before. There was danger…danger that Twilight felt too. It built and built for three more days, until he thought he might collapse from being on alert without rest…and then something Changed. It happened when Twilight took him out back to potty. Something fought the Bad Thing. It was a New Thing, made of Pack-Love and the Choosing and the way the seasons turned and the moon changed her face, of the life hidden in stone and dirt and the song of the stars at night. It was powerful, and it rang with the Voice of All-Those-Packs-Before, of hoof and paw and wing and claw, and it denied The Bad Thing. Spike stopped sniffing the bushes and bolted to be next to Twilight when it did, turning towards the feeling, hackles raised and on edge in case The Bad Thing ran towards them. It did not. It broke apart as the world cried in relief, and the New Thing…The Good Thing…passed over and through them, leaving Spike feeling as though he had just woken from a good sleep on a fully belly. The touch of The Good Thing, he noted, lingered around Twilight, sinking into her the way a scent might sink into the couch. Yet she did not seem to notice, only stared at the small brick that made noise, mumbling about Stranger-Sunset. Spike urged her back inside all the same—the outside was too open, and in the den was safe, especially with the rest of the pack-family gone for a while. He had to keep Twilight safe this time. Which he did, for a long while as the sun went to sleep and the moon rose… Then the brick made noise and Twilight spoke to it, even as Stranger-Sunset’s voice came out the other side. He growled, grumbled, and was summarily ignored by his two-legs as she told Stranger-Sunset, “Come over.” Spike had hoped that The Good Thing had chased Stranger-Sunset away too. Spike was not that lucky. All too soon, he heard the beast with two ball-feet roaring, and then go silent in the yard, followed by the knocking. Twilight opened the door to let Stranger-Sunset in, despite the reek of The Bad Thing in the air… But then Sunset came in…and Spike froze. Something was different. He sniffed and watched. She smelled still of The Bad Thing, it clinging to her skin like smoke and water, but…it wasn't coming from her. Instead, coming from her, and fighting the remnants of The Bad Thing…was part of The Good Thing. Not the whole of it, but part…like one member of a pack of many. And when Twilight touched Sunset-Stranger-Stinking-of-Bad, The Good Thing part was stronger… He watched. Waited. Followed on quiet paws as Twilight made Sunset take a dreaded bath, made her eat stinky water made with plants--not as good as the tasty meat water, in his opinion--oh, and bread. Bread was good, and Sunset-Stranger even dropped some for him. She did do that sometimes, dropping him food he wasn't supposed to have. He observed and smelled, and looked deeper and thought harder than most of his kind ever had to, hard enough that it hurt a little. Sunset…was hurt. Inside, outside. Tired. Hungry. And she was covered in The Bad Thing like she had rolled in it…but inside her was part of The Good Thing, small but strong. She smelled of a pack of others, all reeking of the same stress-tired-pain-triumph. Spike jumped up to the bed as he reached a conclusion. He had been wrong. Been fooled by a hunter’s tactic—Sunset had not been The Bad Thing. She hunted The Bad Thing. She was not Sunset-Stranger-Who-Brought-The-Bad-Thing…She was Sunset-Protector, and she had stopped the Bad Thing twice now. Protected Twilight from it, when he could not. That made her a friend. An ally in keeping Twilight safe. Curling up between the pair, he wagged his tail at her as she talked with Twilight, resting his chin comfortingly on her leg as she cried and cuddled with his two-leg, more convinced than ever that he had figured out the strangeness. The guilt-pain-fear had been because she was hunting something dangerous, and she was young, like Twilight. That was probably her first hunt without her Mother. With her own pack, all young and new to hunting, especially against The Bad Thing, which was a lot bigger than the small chittery prey he chased in the yard. Sunset-Protector fell asleep, and Spike decided that he would keep watch for her. She worked hard to protect his pack, his Chosen two-leg, so he would protect her when she needed to rest and heal. Twilight scratched his ears and told him he was a Good Boy—maybe she had not been as unaware as he had assumed. And maybe…just maybe, Sunset-Protector was a good mate for Twilight after all. Author's Note This has been in the works a while. Two more chapters to go on this short. More background to what Spike witnesses... Bruhahaha.
Chapter Three: You Can't Erase A Poet's Fate...Not Even If You Try...The Bad Thing was hunting Twilight. This was something Spike had learned after his discovery that Sunset-Protector was one who hunted The Bad Thing. Sunset had barely recovered when the smell of The Bad Thing returned, this time coming home with Twilight when she went to the School-Place. It had always been stinky, smelling of the things called books and many growing two-legs all old enough to seek mates but too young to make their own dens, just like his Twilight. Spike did not know what they did there, but he assumed it was a lot of showing off while they learned to hunt the way two-legs did—which was silly, since Twilight was smart and clever and made many things in her Making-Den, and she already had a good mate…or would if they would hurry up with their courtship. He really didn't understand why they were waiting—both clearly wanted to be mates, but they smelled of fear, and did not show their courtship where others could see. It wasn't like the family didn't know. Mother-Velvet-Soft got excited when the two were together, and was encouraging them in every way she could without speaking, and Father-Night-Wise was clearly satisfied with Sunset-Protector as a potential mate for his youngest pup. Shiny-brother respected her, and Cady-sister jumped with joy whenever Twilight talked to her alone about the courting. But when The Bad Thing started hunting Twilight…he wondered if Sunset-Protector was afraid of exactly that—The Bad Thing hunting her mate to hurt her. Twilight didn't seem entirely aware, but Sunset was. The first time it happened, The Good Thing that was in Sunset attacked The Bad Thing and killed it, and Sunset stayed close, protecting the Den. Yet it kept coming. Mostly on Twilight, but then it rose from Shiny-brother too, and Sunset-Protector became Sunset-Protector-Fire, burning The Bad Things away with fire only Spike could see, and keeping it from attacking Mother-Velvet-Soft anymore. Twilight had grown angry, and jealous, and fled to be angry and hurt in her room—Spike had gone with her, to help, but all she did was be angry at her family and Sunset. It was an anger that did not go away, even if she hid it, and no matter how much Sunset burned away The Bad Thing, Spike could feel it, deep inside Twilight like a tummy worm, a little bit of Bad trying to eat the Good Thing in Twilight that was growing. That was also new. It was not a pup, but it was something that was part of Twilight, a tiny Good Thing that smelled like The Good Thing in Sunset-Protector-Fire, one that was growing stronger everyday, and that The Good Thing in Sunset was very clearly trying to protect. Spike did not understand the all the ways The Good Things and Bad Things interacted, but they were clearly enemies. The Bad Thing was bad, it did Bad, so The Good Thing stopped it and killed it. But the Bad Thing fought back, and sometimes it hurt Sunset-Protector-Fire…sometimes badly, and she would come to the Den smelling of pain and tired and weakness. Those days, Spike did what he could to guard Sunset while she licked her wounds and The Good Thing inside her grew strong again when the family made her happy, when Twilight fussed over her and curled up with her the way a mate should. The anger was still in Twilight, and the fear. It fed The Bad Thing, and it gave her nightmares and made her talk to herself, The Good Thing and The Bad Thing fighting over Twilight like a tug toy. She acted funny, smelled funny, acted scared and suspicious of her own pack and hid away in the Making-Den or the School-Place. Spike tried to help, to make her feel better, to show her that something was wrong…to tell the family that something was so very wrong… But Spike could not speak the way the two-legs did, and while they seemed to realize something was wrong…they didn't know what, and he had no way to tell them, no matter how he barked and howled and whined. He still did his best, trying to soothe Twilight’s bad feelings and warn Sunset as soon as she came over when the Bad Thing had come again. Her Good Thing would cover Twilight like a blanket, feeding the growing Good Thing inside Twilight, and drive back The Bad Thing as much as it could, and all would be well for some days. She, at least, seemed to know what was happening…even if she couldn't tell the family either. Maybe she didn't know the right sounds? Spike thought it might have gotten better, when he went to stay at Cady-sister and Shiny-brother’s den, and came back to find Twilight smelling of happy and The Bad Thing all gone and The Good Thing inside her stronger than ever. She was covered in Sunset’s scent, and it seemed that they had finally chosen to be mates after all. Perhaps The Bad Thing had finally been beaten, and it would stop hunting his Twilight. Spike would like that. Sunset-Protector-Fire would like that too, Spike decided. She did not like Twilight’s School-Place, at all, growling and making angry faces when it was talked about, and she got very protective when Twilight was upset about the School-Place, which happened more and more. Spike did not get his wish. The moon had barely turned her face when something changed again. Twilight grew angry again, and smelled of hurt and upset and sad and scared, and she fought with everyone. She made angry sounds at Sunset, driving Sunset back, hurting her with words more than if she had bit and scratched, and then she hid in her room, crying and stinking of pain and tired and sad and angry and Bad. ….and Sunset-Protector-Fire… Was Broken. She did not seem to hear or see anything other than the shiny stone Twilight had thrown on the ground. She did not cry, but The Good Thing inside her seemed cracked now, and he smelled pain and fear and something else. Some deep, broken hurt inside her that stank of The Bad Thing, but also The Good Thing. And then she left, even when Mother-Velvet-Soft tried to get her to Stay, when Father-Night-Wise tried to talk to both females…even Spike climbing in her lap and offering cuddles and showing her that Twilight was wrong, that something Wrong and Bad had happened didn't get her to Stay. Instead, Spike watched as Sunset-Protector-Broken…left the Den… It hurt Spike inside, and he felt was sorry he had ever wished for Sunset to leave…because she had made Twilight happy, had protected her and made his Chosen two-leg alive and free, like no one else. She was a good mate, a strong packmate…and as he saw how Twilight was also Broken and angry and hurt, he realized something else. There was another kind of Choosing, between Twilight and Sunset…something more than just mates, something tied up in the wounded Good Things inside them both… And Spike was afraid that if they did not make things right… Then The Bad Thing would destroy The Good Things in both of them. He had to help them. Author's Note One Chapter left.
Chapter Four: Are You Listening Now?The instant he woke up, Spike could feel it. The air was charged and vibrating, and not just from the storm he could smell on the wind when he went outside. The Bad Thing was on the hunt. Today was the day it would attack, like it had the other two big times. All the other animals knew too—the flying things and the skittering things and the things in holes were all hiding today, quiet and afraid, and he heard the barking that was sending waves of warnings to his kind across the city. He even joined in when he was out in the yard, howling to the wind that The Bad Thing was after his two-leg, and hearing the cries of the pack-born echoing in reply, support as they fought their collars and leads so they could defend their humans. Twilight was agitated, angry and restless. She had not slept much in the days before, staying late in the Making-Den and muttering about Sunset. She left early, avoiding the family, and he tried to follow her, determined not to leave her to be hunted, but she caught him and put him back inside. After she was gone, he paced by the door, trying to figure out how to get to her…or Sunset. Sunset-Protector-Fire would fight The Bad Thing if it came, even while Broken and hurt, and he knew, deep down…she would need him today. Maybe if he could get let out to go potty, he could hunt her that way…but he did not know where she was. When Mother-Velvet-Soft came down he whined and barked and cried and tried to make her see she needed to get Sunset or Twilight or both of them…but she did not understand, trying to soothe him with tummy rubs and cuddles and treats. How he wished he could speak like a two-leg, to tell her in her own kind’s way of sharing, what was wrong. But he couldn’t. And so he paced and whined and trued again and again to show her that her pup was in trouble, bringing her things of Twilight’s, trying to show her the Making-Den, even bringing her her shoes and his vest. Nothing worked. Spike whined, desolate, and felt as though he was going to fail Twilight again, fail at protecting her from the greatest danger she could face. Did pack-born who Failed their Chosen two-leg still go to the Good Green Place of Pack Who Came Before? Or were they forgotten in the shadow of the moon, a place she never turned her face? Despair like he had never felt before gripped him, and he lay, defeated, under the table in the kitchen, head aching from the depth of his morose thoughts. Until…hope came, in the form of Cady-Sister. She arrived, chattering and determined, and on her, he smelled The Good Thing that often clung to Sunset-Protector, and the scent of Cady-Sister and Shiny-Brother’s other packmate, whose scent had come to be intertwined with The Good Thing since Sunset-Protector-Fire had appeared. His head came up and he listened as she spoke with Mother-Velvet-Soft, and while he did not understand all of it, he understood enough to know she was going to where Sunset and Twilight were to protect Twilight. Spike bolted out from under the table and stood before her, barking once, putting as much of himself into it as he could, just as he had the day he had been Chosen. Cady-Sister stopped and stared down at him. “Spike?” “I think he is worried about Twily, sweetie. He has been beside himself all morning. I think he knows something is wrong.” She knelt down in front of him, searching his face. “Do you, Spike? Do you know that something is wrong?” This was his chance. He could not speak as they did…but he knew one gesture that Twilight had understood always. Spike sat, very slowly and deliberately, still holding Cady-Sister’s stare, and nodded his head once. There! Understanding was in her eyes and scent, and she touched his head. “Alright. Go get your vest, little man.” She looked up. “Mom…I think maybe I should take him with me. She might need him…and if she is there, he’ll know faster than me. He is certified.” Mother-Velvet-Soft smiled, but she smelled of worry and sad. “Take the extra copy of his paperwork,” she said. Then her eyes turned to Spike, and he felt his heart swell as he felt Seen. “Spike…you take care of my babies. You're a good dog, and I know you won’t let anything happen to them.” Spike stood taller than he ever had and barked once, before running to where his vest was, grabbing it and his leash in his teeth and taking it back to them. Cady-Sister squatted to put his vest on him and attach his leash to it. “If Cinch tries anything, Mom, we’ll make sure Twilight is safe before we have the bitch arrested, and Lu said she’s happy to testify on our behalf if it comes to it.” “Just be careful, sweetheart. It might just be me being overly cautious, but Sunset made some very scary yet astute observations about the things Abacus might do.” Hugs were given all around, and then Spike practically dragged Cady-Sister to the car. Time was running out! Author's Note Just an epilogue to go. But that wont be for a few weeks yet.
Epilogue: No One Hears Cassandra CryHe was with Cady-Sister and her strange dark packmate who was touched by the Good Thing, fighting the Bad Things that wanted to hurt the young two-legs in the strange den. The Bad Things smelled terrible and tasted worse when he bit them, but that was less important than making them go away and protecting Cady-Sister while they hunted for Twilight. Spike had wanted to stay with Sunset-Protector-Fire, but hadn't been allowed, and so he was doing his best to pull them in the direction he knew Twilight was. If only there were fewer Bad Things, or if two legs weren't so slow! Spike was tearing out the throat of a pointy eared Bad Thing, snarling and telling it exactly what he thought of it while Cady-Sister shot things at its bigger friend that smelled like bad water and long dead things, when he Felt it. Every hair on him stood up, and he froze, trying to understand. It was a feeling inside him, one he had not felt since the Choosing, and it whispered in a way greater than even the knowing his kind were born with. He had to get to Sunset-Protector-Fire, and he had to do it now. He didn’t know why, or for what exactly, but he had to. Without waiting for the fight to end or for Cady-Sister to see him, Spike leapt off the dying Bad Thing, and bolted down the hall as fast as he could in the direction the feeling was calling to him. This…this was why he was here. Why he had been born and lived when the Smallest usually did not. This was why he was Chosen. Why he had been trained, and what the strange feelings and smells and knowings had been driving him towards for many turnings of the moon’s face. This day, this time. He was here because Twilight needed him…because Sunset-Protector-Fire could not save her without his help. They had to save Twilight together, or their favorite two-leg would die. Toenails skittered on old tile, as Spike zigged and zagged to dodge shadows and other two-legs and the Bad Things. He ignored the distant yelling of Cady-Sister calling his name, twisted away from any attempts to grab his collar. They were obstacles, interference that wanted to keep him from Twilight. No. Spike was a Good Boy and his Twilight needed him now. Sunset-Protector-Fire was close—he could feel it, the way the Bad Things cringed away from her like the lowest away from an angry Mother. She was Fire and Burning and Protection and Anger, guiding him right to her. His paws hurt and his jaws were sore and his nose full of bad smells and sickly not-blood made his tummy feel bad…but he pushed himself, and started barking, letting Sunset-Protector-Fire know he was there. That he was here to help save her mate, his Twilight. Spike was a Good Boy, and this was why he was Chosen. To help Twilight’s mate save her from The Bad Thing. To bring her Home, even if they got lost. The whispering inside him was stronger, flooding him with a knowing that spoke of the Choosing, of the places he could go to find Twilight, the walls and fences and leashes that could never truly hold him back. Not when Twilight needed him. Needed Sunset-Protector-Fire. Spike would show the Bad Things why you didn’t go after a two-leg who had been Chosen. Because Spike was a Good Boy. Author's Note And that’s a wrap for this one. You’ll see why with the main story’s upcoming chapters. Spike is a Good Boy…most people just never realized how Good. Thanks for reading!
