"As humans, inventing complex connections where none exist comes naturally to us. Especially socially. The personification of Beasts is my favorite example of this phenomenon. Even seasoned Slayers describe impossible grudges held by creatures incapable of such thoughts... The fact that they are sometimes right is the exception which proves the rule."

~Unknown

It was difficult to get a good look at any one dog while they were pressed together like a living, shaggy blanket. That was before Tina casually organized them into orderly lines, a display I was still reeling from. As we walked through the open gate I had an opportunity to study the dogs as individuals. One of them initially caught my eye because it sat between the lines instead of in them. It was easily the largest dog in the kennel and possibly the largest dog I’d ever seen. Tina was heading straight for them, still resting me on her hip. At a guess, it sat atop whatever hierarchy had been established and understandably so. I couldn’t take my eyes off them and would have sworn they were staring at me just as intently. It wasn’t just their size that grabbed my attention, though. There was a faint shimmer to their fur where the light caught it. It reminded me of-

Is that dog's fur made of metal?

I rapidly blinked my eyes to clear them. The fur still looked like metal. I tried rationalizing the situation. If that dog’s fur was solid metal I would have heard it clinking like dollar store wind chimes. I normally loved serendipity, but when a gentle breeze silently played through the still shimmering strands in response to my thought… I was not appreciative. No matter how I looked at it, that dog’s fur still had a metallic sheen to it. It looked like organic steel wool without the manufactured tonal uniformity.

We crossed the final few steps to stand opposite the creature I started to doubt was actually a dog. The top of its head lined up with the bottom of Tina’s chin which left me having to crane my neck upwards from my perch on her hip. That dog could have snatched me up in its jaws and made a valiant attempt at swallowing me whole if it were so inclined. When it tilted its head towards me I saw a literal flash of teeth.

Okay, that dog’s chompers are definitely made of metal.

Every canine in that canine’s mouth looked like they’d been coated in polished steel. Despite the objective danger such a terrifying animal presented, I wasn’t afraid. I could feel a steady heartbeat through my contact with Tina. She wasn’t worried at all. Based on the way the dogs were behaving, I was inclined to trust her judgment. Deep down I just knew I was safe with her. It was a warm feeling.

“Will, this is Vigil,” Tina said sweetly.

The realization that I had learned the name of a probably-metal dog before learning the name of my father tickled me. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It came out as one of those heart-warming baby giggles and I heard Tina stifle a small chuckle of her own.

“... he likes you, Vigil.” I gathered Tina was talking to the dog even though I missed the start of her sentence.

Talking to dogs like they were people was a habit I developed in my first life. I felt a connection to Tina when I heard her do the same. It reminded me of how I used to talk to my dog. Sometimes one of her pointed, doggy looks conveyed an entire conversation’s worth of mischief. A shudder threatened to rack my body as the memory stirred emotions that had been lying dormant for days. Thoughts of home were still too tender. I drew on every ounce of stoicism I could to keep my emotions in check.

If I start crying she might take me away from the dogs. I don’t want that. Not now.

In response to Tina’s words, Vigil grumbled in the way only big dogs can. I heard a repetitive thunk, thunk, thunk as their tail started to wag. Each thunk was accompanied by a small shower of earth and a steadily growing divot like someone was wailing on the ground with a golf club. Vigil’s apparent happiness at my approval was a balm to the spirit. I forced a small smile. Metal or not, a good doggo was a good doggo. The hurt I was feeling didn't magically go away, but I got a handle on it. I could be sad later.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I started making grabby hands towards Vigil. I wasn't technically able to talk yet, but some signals were universal and my curiosity demanded satiation. Tina seemed happy to oblige my childish desires and held me out enough that I could reach the mass of metallic fur. My tiny fingers wove into the strands and I gave the best little squeeze I could muster. It felt like… fur. It felt like regular old dog fur.

Well, that wasn't what I was expecting.

Asking about Vigil’s unique constitution skyrocketed up my list of priority questions. I had a hunch this all linked back to the System but I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I knew the details. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to ask about this stuff without setting off alarm bells.

We were at the kennel for well over an hour while Tina took the time to introduce me to each of the dogs. Most didn’t seem out of the ordinary by the standards I was familiar with, but there were a couple of exceptions. None were as obvious in their strangeness as Vigil, but the presence of a metallic dog made me pay close enough attention to spot it.

Trunkle had short hair along their snout instead of the usual shaggy gray. In a few places the hair receded entirely to reveal small cavities that resembled nostrils. Vix had an extra tail and I initially mistook her for one of the younger dogs. Unlike the pups, Vix had the proportions of an adult despite her smaller size. She was more lithe than her kennel mates in a way that seemed irregular for the breed. The only pattern I could identify was that none of the younger dogs appeared different in the same way some of the adults did.

Vigil shadowed us while we did the rounds. I couldn’t be certain if all the dogs were thrilled by my presence or just cowed by Vigil and Tina, but seeing the puppies do excited butt wiggles was adorable all the same. Tiredness crept up on me and I yawned before I could catch myself. All the excitement must have tired me out and my growing body demanded a nap. Tina helped me wave goodbye to the dogs as we left the kennel and I was asleep before we made it back to the house

***

I had a new roommate. Vigil slept next to my crib most nights and accompanied Tina to the kennel during the day. Emboldened by the success of our first outing, Tina also felt increasingly confident in taking me with her which I was happy to encourage with well timed baby laughs. I needed to get out of the house more. It wouldn’t have been practical for Tina to work with one arm occupied by a baby all day which I worried would limit my time with her. I was a big fan of her solution. Vigil would lay down on a soft patch of grass and I’d be propped up against him. It gave me a regular reminder that his fur was surprisingly soft despite its metallic appearance. My initial concerns that I’d slump like a ragdoll without additional support were unfounded. The usually futile efforts I’d made to sit up in my crib evidently helped me build sufficient baby muscle to remain upright. Small victories. Some of the younger dogs occasionally tried to approach us but were deterred by a low growl that rumbled from deep within Vigil’s chest. It was probably for the best. I didn’t want to be accidentally squished by an enthusiastic puppy twice my size.

Watching Tina work was a great way to spend the weeks leading up to my Core Skill selection but I couldn’t help but feel I was missing something. Most of what I saw was regular maintenance of the kennel. Sometimes Tina would undergo basic obedience training with the younger dogs which I recognized despite the language barrier. It was how I first inferred the word for ‘sit’. Still, I couldn’t reconcile the routine with the size, quality, and quantity of the dogs around me.

What is their purpose?

I hadn’t seen any sign of neighbors. Either we were self-sufficient hermits or part of a thinly spread community. If we were surrounded by farms and farmers then I could see it making sense that Tina bred working dogs. I also considered the possibility that they were livestock guardians, dogs bred to square up with anything desperate enough to prey on farm animals. Vigil seemed like the kind of dog that could make a predator buy a pair of pants just so they could shit them.

I remained perplexed until the afternoon I saw my father hauling what could be best described as a large rickshaw loaded with supplies. I recognized the barrels of lightly brined meat Tina pulled from to feed the dogs. I was under the impression that too much salt wasn’t good for dogs, but clearly she knew something I didn’t. My father arrived from the path that disappeared over the rise and paused to wave at us. Clearly, we were getting supplies from somewhere and that somewhere was close enough to reach in less than a day of travel. Until I learned otherwise, my farming community theory seemed the most likely. Still…

How was he able to make the journey without straight up dying?!

Those wagon wheels were weighed down enough to leave furrows in furrows as they groaned from the burden. It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t just that my father was hauling the goods; I’d seen footage of strongmen pulling ridiculously heavy things before, but they did it over short distances and jumped in ice baths immediately afterwards. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat. It had to be System related. Inspired, I pulled up the familiar notification.

Time Until Core Skill Selection

01:08:13:21

In less than two days, I’d get some answers. In less than two days, I’d get to choose a Core Skill. I’d prepared as much as I could. I had a plan. I was ready.

…

I was wrong.