Day 3 - Scene 4 - Part 2

The mid-morning sun warmed the hillsides. No wind played in the treetops and in the clearing flies buzzed from dog to dog. Here and there a tail wagged to shoo them away, but for the most part everything was still.

The dogs lay where they had lain. Rolf had gone to sit in the shade of one one of the sheds. In the middle of it all, surrounded by more dogs than he'd ever seen at one time, stood Enar, still cradling the puppy to his chest. He couldn't move. He'd wake the little thing.

Sometimes it twitched – small, jerky kicks – but other than that the puppy lay completely still. Enar thought he could feel a small heart beating, but it was probably just his imagination; he didn't even hold it that tight.

Out in the forest a dog barked. Enar looked up and saw a little brown and white whirlwind come hurtling through the trees, tail and ears flapping as it ran and barking all the time. Behind it, at a more leisurely pace, came Rufus, with a shaggy, black, pony in tow.

The dog ran straight into the clearing, two laps around Enar, over to Rolf to lick his face and back to Enar again. It ran two more laps, stopped and barked at all the other dogs, darted over to Rolf to bark at him too and once more back to Enar. It jumped up and put its forepaws on his knees, barked one last time and wagged its tail like it was the best thing in the world.

Enar, at first intimidated, couldn't help but smile. That wasn't so bad after all. This would be a good companion for a walk; small, happy and full of energy. He pictured himself walking through the forest; the little dog running ahead of him, sniffing at trees and rocks.

The puppy woke up. It sneezed, or maybe it tried to bark, and started pawing at Enar's shirt. So small. Enar, again, couldn't take his eyes off it. He'd totally get a little dog just like it when he got home; a brown and white one – with big floppy ears.

“So lad, what you call him?” asked Rufus, finally arriving himself. “Down lass.”

The little dog on the ground backed off, stopped barking and sat down, looking from Enar, to Rufus, to the puppy and back to Enar again.

“Herb,” said Enar. “I'll call him Herb, after my uncle – on my mother's side.”

“Herb? Herb.” Rufus repeated the name to himself a few times. “That'll do. Give here.”

He grabbed the puppy from Enar's hands and without even looking at it he put it back into his pocket.

Enar tore his eyes from the little bulge in the coat, missing his new friend already.

“So this is my guide then?” He squatted down to look closer at the dog at his feet. “I must say I thought it would be bigger.” He reached out a hand and gently patted the dog on the head. It kept wagging its tail and didn't bite him. “This one's not so scary.”

“No lad,” said Rufus. “That's Pride. She's not your guide, Bolvar is.”

“Bolvar?” Enar looked at the man.

Rufus, without taking his eyes off Enar, pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the pony behind him. The pony yawned, barring huge fangs, and stepped forward to look at Enar. It did not wag its tail.

Enar's legs stopped working. He fell forward on his knees and had to put a hand out to keep from falling over completely. He starred at the grass between his fingers.

“That's little Herb's grandfather lad. He'll guide you to Old Hill.”

Enar said nothing. A ladybug climbed up a straw of grass.

“He's a wolfhound – winter bred too. Me old man got him from the old snow speaker in Tels, forty five years ago. Old as me is he.”

Enar said nothing. The ladybug reached the end of the straw and flew away.

“He was no bigger than Herb back then.” Rufus squatted down and put a heavy hand on Enar's shoulder. “He's the oldest and safest guide in all the hills. My old man trained this one for fifteen years before he went to the endless afternoon. Best guide I ever saw.”

“I don't want to go.” Enar forced out a whisper.

He could hear the big dog breathing real close. It sniffed and he felt a light tug of wind through his hair. He took a deep breath and raised his head to look at it.

The dog looked back.

From under bushy eyebrows its eyes met his; bored and unamused, but without hostility. Tired.

“Well lad, don't then – and when someone asks you what you did on your vacation you can say you sat in the grass and drank tea and did nothing all week – just like in the stories, right?”

Enar glared at Rufus but said nothing. He stood up and brushed some dirt from his knees.

Breathing deeply he looked around; at the sky and the treetops and a bird on a branch. He looked anywhere but at Rufus, or Bolvar, or any of the other dogs. “No. I'll go.”

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Continued in Day 3 - Scene 4 - Part 3.

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