He could hear the humans arguing until nearly midnight over what Lucky had said, but the big dog stayed away from the argument, the council, and everyone else as he prepared to leave the Farm. Girl had packed a large rucksack for herself and rigged a smaller pack for each of the dogs carrying the bare essentials. Food would be problematic as supplies at the Farm weren’t inexhaustible and the people were reluctant to part with any more than necessary. They would have to forage and scavenge after a week at the most. He was confident that they would find enough to survive by the time they needed it. They had a notebook filled with long lists of what everyone hoped they would find on their trek.
Girl was sleeping on the bed behind him with Quick curled on the spare pillow. The squirrel kept glancing up at Lucky while he paced back and forth across the room.
“You okay,” the squirrel asked, his dark eyes flashing as the clouds parted and moonlight flooded the room.
“Fine.” The dog’s steps faltered. “Mostly. You? Looking forward to coming with us?”
The squirrel gave a noncommittal grumble and tucked his nose under his tail, quickly giving himself up to sleep. Lucky, on the other hand, remained awake a while longer. He wanted sleep, but a strange fog of anxiety loomed over him. He was beginning to feel like this looming sense of something awful coming was almost more than he could handle.
It felt like he was climbing up through dangerous terrain, seeing one obstacle at a time. Yet every time he surmounted one obstacle another appeared on the horizon. There was always something looming. He flopped down on the floor next to the bed with a heavy sigh, laying his head down between his front paws. His ears twitched at every little sound the settling house made. Girl whimpered in her sleep, rolling restlessly to one side and curling into the fetal position. Lucky lifted his head, nose working furiously as he caught that strange scent again. Tar, burnt meat, and sun-warmed fur. It pulled him to his paws, drawing him away from the bed as Girl made another mewling whimper and rolled to her other side, curling tighter against whatever dream creature bothered her. It was like a hand had grabbed a hold of his nose and was pulling him along, almost against his will. Out into the hallway, passing the closed doors where people slept, down the long stairs and through the living room where people were still arguing over his decision to leave. He chuffed out a breath, drawing in the scents of the house.
Or trying to.
Instead of the usual mix of aromas, there was only the strange tarry-burnt-sun smell. He passed right by Steel-Beard with no hint of his scent. The carpet gave no hint of the menagerie of scents it usually contained. The open door of the half-bath, toilet still flushing, gave no clues of what had passed within its walls so recently. Lucky followed his nose through the doggy door and out onto the porch.
Tar-fur-meat.
**DA-DING!! You have gained +1 Scent!!**
The tarry scent swirled around him, taunting him. Poorly cooked meat, charred on the outside, raw and bloody on the inside. The tangy scent of fur that has been warmed by the sun, coated in the dust of a long dry road. Calloused, exhausted paw pads, splitting along the edges. A body run so far beyond its capacity, beyond endurance, beyond.
Lucky’s pale eyes searched the dooryard as his nose drew him down the porch stairs. His paws squelched down into the thick mud beneath the gravel at the base of the stairs, it pushed up between his toes and sucked them back as he lifted them. That dry-bone scent was so sharp that it felt almost painful as it teased his nose. He chuffed out a breath, sneezed.
The rain had finally let up, now only the occasional blow-down from the trees that surrounded the dooryard plopped down on Lucky’s furry back. Despite the wet-rainy-scent that should fill his nostrils with mud-worm-growing hints, all the big dog could scent was the smell of tar, boiling tar, like the relentless sun blazing down on an ancient tarred road, bubbling beneath its summer brilliance. He walked toward the gate, the sound of his paws on the mud was the only unnatural sound in the dooryard. Otherwise it was only the wind, rustling the leaves and grasses. It caught on a loose shutter in the hayloft, creaking it gently. It played gently with the windchimes that hung on the corner of the porch. Somewhere a cricket serenaded Lucky, but still the only scent was that strange taunting aroma that drew him onward, toward the gate and through. Outside the bounds of the fence and into the dark wood.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Stronger.
Every step, every time one paw sunk into the cool mud, the scent got stronger. Eventually, each breath was almost painful, burning along the sensitive membranes of his nose. Coiling like some living thing in his lungs, burning like too much smoke. It had its hooks in him, drawing him along like a fish on the line, deeper and deeper in the wood. Ever westward, past the Hunting Camp, weaving between the trees, faster and further.
It was dark in the wood, so dark. The clouds were a landscape of hills and valleys between Lucky and the night sky, blotting out what light the celestial bodies would have given him. There was no sense of time passing, really. Just one paw set down in front of another. One step at a time. One deep breath after another, each one digging into his sensitive nose and spreading like vines deep into him. Down a broken cliff face, one careful step at a time, along the barely bound banks of a creek filled with rainwater, across a little clearing, and finally up a long hill. At the top of the hill, Lucky became aware of a flickering light down below.
That light was hiding behind a thick stand of trees and brush, tangled together like some sort of wall between him and the source. The scent was so strong now, he must be getting close. Lucky nosed his way through the dense brush and into a clear space. Where other clearings were mostly made by fallen trees, this one was made by an outcropping of rock, piled like the droppings of a stone giant in the center of the clearing. Perhaps as wide as a grain silo, the clear space had no grass to speak of, not really much in the way of foliage of any sort. These impressions flashed through Lucky’s thoughts before his mind shuddered to a halt as his attention focused on the flickering firelight that lit the empty space.
It stood atop the rock formation, brilliant flames in the darkest part of the night. Talons, even larger than Lucky’s paws, gripped the stone in a hold so tight the black claws dug into the stone. Feathers the color of midnight were edged in brilliant flames. A raptor’s face, an eagle plumed in the deepest black. Edged in flames, wreathed in them. Blackened fur with rosettes the color of ember, huge paws tipped in razor sharp claws. Blazing wings spread wide, eyes the color of the crumbling ash charcoal leaves behind. So gray it is almost white. Burnt steak, sun-warmed fur, and an overpowering scent of tar. Heat rolled off the figure in waves, washing over Lucky like a tsunami.
It looked down at Lucky, wings flaring before tucking against its sides. Ash colored eyes seared their way across the big dog’s features, blinding in their intensity. It felt like the gryphon was looking through Lucky as much as at him. His ears went back against his skull and his tail lowered. There was a challenge burning brightly in the depths of the gryphon’s eyes. The talons tightened, digging into the rock it stood so proudly upon and a quiver went through Lucky’s spirit.
**DA-DING!! You have gained +1 Dangersense!!**
His breath caught in his chest as he ducked down a little, making his large body seem somehow less. For a long moment, it just looked down upon him with a very avian expression in its burning, ashen eyes. The look felt predatory and it sent a tremble through Lucky’s back legs.
There is no courage without fear. The thought rolled through Lucky like a gentle tidal wave of comfort. His limbs still trembled, his heart still stuttered in its beat, but he stood as firm as he could as he faced the burning cold eyes of the gryphon.
Lucky’s pale eyes met the gryphon’s and stillness swept through him. The strange clearing went equally still, save a soft wind that teased Lucky’s long fur as it wound around the stones beneath the gryphon’s dangerous claws. A faint, soft, whine escaped Lucky as his haunches lowered just a bit before he grabbed his fading courage tight in his teeth and wrenched himself straight. The hackles between his shoulder blades rose and his head lifted proudly as he met those ashen eyes.
The avian head cocked to the right, big eyes blinking once before it titled the other way, those nearly white eyes felt like they were scouring his very soul.