A Few Minutes of Rest

[jake]

Blue sat whining on the doormat near the porch door. The metal mesh of the door tempted her, it would be so easy to rip it... But that make Ray annoyed and he'd have to fix it. The large dog shook her head as if to shake away the thoughts. Instead of ripping the mesh away, she pawed at the wood and cried. "Rayyyy!! Let me out, pleaseeee!" She howled

"Alright, alright. Hush, Blue." The man responded only to her howling - of course he couldn't understand dog. She could hear the loud clomping his boots made on the wooden floor. Ray Grunt entered the kitchen. He reached down and ruffled Blue's long fur. "That's my girl," He muttered lovingly. The tall man reached over and shoved the broken door. It swung from the frame with a groan and a squeal. "You gotta oil that, Ray." Blue huffed as she trotted outside. Ray muttered something about fixing the darn door before easing it into the frame. "Don't go far now, girl!" Ray called before going deeper into the house.

Selecting a comfortable spot on the porch, Blue stepped over to it and circled twice before lying down. She rested her large head on her equally large paws before sighing loudly. The female dog shut her two-colored eyes. One eye, the usable one, was a deep brown. It looked almost black. But the other eye was light and cloudy - the sign of blindness. Blue thought back to that certain fight as a pup... The pain of the other dog slashing it's sharp claws across the right side of her face was still clear and sharp. Shuddering, Blue shifted her position on the porch surface.

[solisticeofwinter]

The Drifter...

Deep azure hues gazed longingly at the open sky, a milky blue with white clouds obscuring the scenery. The sun was beginning to shift, and a film of orange coated the horizon. The sun still floated in the air, but was slowing inching its way down to the line of dark and day. A sweeping wind passed through, buffering the mighty emerald leaved oaks. Regal birches swayed their branches in the breeze, humming a song of soft creaking and moaning as they were buffered. Deep grasses grew on the edge of the woodlands, a copse resided beyond that. Thick foliage curled up from the earth, a variety of plants and shrubs. Thistle, foxglove, poppy, sour grass, and moss created a little environment for all things of diminutive sizing. But in the thick copse on a bed of lily, lay a small dog. She was dappled red, and one of her ears was born, revealing a scab that would, in time, turn into a scar, if not a notch in the ear. Her coat was distinctively marked, an array of red splotches and darker patches along her body. Deep, smooth reds blended with more haughty black tinges that fell way to wispy, white hairs of silken touch.


She was Sol. The small Australian dog had been in one of the most notorious alley fights, and chose to flee from the battle. Being the smallest, she would be easily killed. And the Doberman.....Sol's heart ached when she thought of his dead body, spilling and pooling blood if they had murdered him. She shook her head. She was a Drifter. She shouldn't care about the happening of other less fortunate or stupid dogs. She was more concerned about survival. But she was concerned for Drum. Drum, wise and caring had nursed her back to health. She was forever grateful for him. He was her friend. But she knew that she needed to be on her own journey, not on Drum's with him, or with Drum on hers. It was best if she walked the path of loneliness by herself until her paws make the trek back and found him.





The small Aussie lifted her scarred muzzle to the air and drew in scenting breaths through her lively nostrils. Deep scents of a human home invaded, followed by the scent of a canine. Solstice's stomach responded with a low, deep rumble of hunger. She had not eaten since she departed the other side of the Wilderness forest where she and Drum had split their ways. She lifted to her paws, her compact body perfect for prowling through thick vegetation. She sinked through the grasses and saw the house. Her icy blue eyes pierced the house. There were no garbage cans for the pickings. She sighed. She had blindly ran through the city streets that night, adrenaline pumping her fear and she was always looking back. Always looking to make sure the awful, dead eyes of Junius were not following. So she was lost in this place. She thought she could make it by scent and memory on her own, but she was foolish for thinking so. She should have taken directions from Drum.

Stupid Sol. Call yourself a Drifter? She cursed in her mind, glaring in the reality and scorning herself.


Suddenly, Solstice watched as a man let a large, billowing-furred canine outside of the house. The dog rested on the porch in a loftily fashion. A dog who might know how to get back to the city. A dog who would either help, or hurt her. Sol would not back from a fight this time. But she didn't want a confrontation. She edged out from under the grasses, and trotted into the open. The meadow-like field splayed far and beyond. The farmer's country smelled strongly of harvest hay and cows' sweet feed. This home seemed like a regular home. In fleet-footed trot, Sol made her way to the house. She stopped a few feet from the porch, and looked at the dog in a neutral expression.

"Sorry to intrude in on your home and territory. But I have been lost for a time now, and I cannot find the route back to the city. Any idea how to get there?" She mumbled in the friendliest way she knew how and twisted her lips into a friendly grin. "The name is Solstice. Call me Sol stranger."