Exploring The Junkyard (OPEN)

[Zephyra]

A medium sized black and white form lay quietly in the crane that sat in the middle of the junkyard. If you got closer, you could see that it was a black and white rough collie mix. She was sleeping on seat inside of the crane. Springs jutted out of the leather seat and it was worn and old. She'd been wandering the lands the last few days and was quite tired. She didn't enjoy the junkyard but she had just stopped here to sleep. After a few minutes she blinked her blue eyes and a yawn escaped her maw. She stood up on the seat and jumped out of the crane. Her soft paws landed on the warm dirt and the sun was out. She guessed that the sun had risen just a few hours ago. She began walking around the huge junkyard, carefully avoiding sharp glass and broken bottles that were strewn about. She looked around. There was absolutely nothing here except garbage. Myth was quite hungry so she began digging around in the garbage for something to eat such as a leftover hamburger or something. Finally after much digging she found a cheeseburger. It didn't look appetizing whatsoever. It was quite rotten and was covered in dirt. She pawed at the spots where dirt was on the cheeseburger and when she was done, she realized she had ripped off most of the bread. She didn't mind however. The meat was the best part. She began eating the cheeseburger, little pieces at a time, hoping to make it last longer. It did but soon she had devoured it all. She continued walking, heading towards tallest garbage hill so that she could see where she was going. Unfortunately she didn't remember the way out so she was going to see where she could exit. When she reached the top, she was panting. It had been quite a walk. She sat down on the huge garbage hill and looked around. She wanted to get out of here was quick as she could. She couldn't stand being in the junkyard. It was very dangerous but she couldn't go anymore. Being a longcoated dog, she got overheated quickly. Myth just sat quietly, panting and trying to cool off. It wasn't easy since the sun beat down on her from the top of the junk hill. It wasn't that terrible for it was early morning so she just sat, waiting for something to happen.


Word Count: 422

[Sheelawolf]

Progress was slow. If caution was necessary to get through the junk yard for a coordinated canine, only the utmost care would get Madder through unscathed as he struggled to keep his paws from twitching the wrong way. Nevertheless, this was one of his choice resting places. For one thing, the scent was a nice change from the stench of the sewers and reservoir. For another, in a pinch, he could dig himself beneath some of the looser garbage to avoid enemies.

Madder never came to the junkyard for food. After the decades the humans had been gone, whatever might be edible didn’t smell like it was fit for canine consumption. He’d seen other dogs eat here, however, which mystified him. Perhaps his nose was more sensitive than theirs? Or they were desperate? They needed to learn to eat cockroaches. He smirked at his bitter inner joke. If he stumbled on a dead rat, he considered himself the most favored dog with four hind-left paws. If he managed to catch a live, sickly one, he was in heaven. In fact, he’d eat anything to get some variety in his diet. For a brief moment, he considered trying some of the junk lying around to get a change from his usual fare, but one sniff halted his thoughts in that regard.

It wasn’t the scent of the garbage that kept him from reaching for the nearest mold-covered article. It was the scent of a dog. And ever since his disease made him a twitching, stumbling mess nine months ago, another dog could be one of the worst things he’d encounter. He sniffed frantically, trying to pinpoint the smell. His nose finally locked on his target and he tried to make sense of the shifting images from his eyes. He saw some sort of mass close-by to one side of him, the double-image of it twitching left and right, up and down randomly, making it look translucent against the morning sky. It took a great deal of focus to get the images to come close enough to hint that it might be a hill. They also revealed that there was something on top of it.

His nose set to work again. It was a femme, hot and tired. If he were a healthy dog, he would probably have no trouble getting away, but he was not a healthy dog. If she spotted him, she could certainly outrun him no matter what her condition. For all he knew, the spotting had already been accomplished.

Madder chose the next best option in his mind. He froze, unwilling to risk the movement and noise that diving under the trash might cause. It took all of his concentration to keep his body from twitching enough to make his position obvious. He knew that one side of him was better at camouflage than the other, though he hadn’t figured out which one that was yet. He had a fifty-fifty chance of remaining hidden. Unfortunately, the fact that his scent was masked by his chosen hideaways wouldn’t help him if she happened to be looking at the wrong side.

[Zephyra]

Suddenly Myth's sensitive ears heard a very tiny pawstep. Her nostrils twitched as she tried to smell the scent of whatever it was. She smelt the faint scent of a brute. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a very, very slight movement. Her icy blue eyes focused on the mass and saw that it was a brute in hiding. She quietly walked towards him and sat down a few feet away. It wasn't easy sitting on the junk hill for it was slanted but she managed. A smile crossed her maw as she spoke. Hello. I am Myth. May I ask why you are hiding? She spoke in a very kind tone for she was not going to insult this brute in any way. She flicked her auds, as a slight breeze ruffled her long coat. Myth was mainly rough collie for her mother had been a purebred and her father had been a rough collie mutt. She turned her attention back to the brute who remained hiding. He was camoflauged quite well for she had just barely seen him. Myth just sat quietly and watched the brute, waiting for him to react.



Word Count: 200

[Sheelawolf]

Madder’s ears twitched at the sound of the femme’s voice, and much to his embarrassment, wouldn’t stop twitching. Still as he was, every muscle still spasmed randomly underneath his unkempt fur and haggard frame. He tried to turn his thoughts from his dismay at being seen this close in his condition by another dog and trying to read the tone of the femme’s voice. He sniffed. She smelled friendly…. She sounded friendly….

A sound came from Madder’s mouth, but it was hard to tell if it was a hissing exhale or an attempt at a word like “Th’s.” He turned to face her fully, concentrating less on keeping himself under control. As a result, his paws twitched in several different directions before finally coming down, his front left one folded under in an uncomfortable angle, the leg far from a natural position close to the body. Madder didn’t notice the way his paw was folded, and even if he had, he would have left it. The femme may as well see the full picture.

He adjusted his position, trying to splay his legs further out to get a better sense of stability. In the process, he placed too much weight on the folded paw and fell awkwardly onto his left shoulder. His wildly rolling eyes narrowed at the embarrassing misstep, but he struggled to push himself up, panting, drooling. His chest was soaked with saliva already, a side-effect of the illness that plagued him. He was trembling violently now, shifting this way and that as if he couldn’t tell which way to run. It wasn’t that he was frightened, only that he couldn’t control the spasms that pulled him this way and that. He lowered his head, ashamed at having to reveal himself like this to another dog, but if she wouldn’t attack him for his weakness, it was better than antagonizing her by withholding the information she sought. Madder stood still, knowing that he didn't have the option to run. His illness wouldn't permit it. He sniffed the air every couple seconds, seeking her reaction to his appearance.

[Zephyra]

Sadness filled Myth as she watched the poor brute writhe around in the junk. She wondered what was wrong with him. She guessed that it was an illness or some birth defect. She watched and listened as he made a sound and as he was covered in saliva. For a minute or two Myth was speechless. It was such a sad sight that she could barely speak. She spoke in a very sweet tone, Are you ok? That was the only thing that she could think of to say. She could imagine that this brute was feeling humiliated and in pain. Myth fought back a few tears that wanted to pour from her eyes. Watching him just saddened her for he could not control these spasms and he looked so helpless. Myth wanted to try and help but there seemed to be nothing she could do. All she could do was watch as more sadness filled her. Myth, though she had been treated terrible as a pup, was extremely light. She flicked her ears again and her eyes didn't leave him. She couldn't seem to stop staring. She sat quietly once again, waiting for him to respond.

[Sheelawolf]

Her scent was promising, not a scent of glee at an opportunity to put a weak dog down, not amusement at the freak show she’d stumbled on. If his eyes had been able to focus, he’d have been able to see her sympathy written on her face as clearly as he could smell it. As it was, he could only form the dim impression of her appearance. He couldn’t even rely on his ever-shifting eyes to tell him that she was a fellow dog. That’s what his nose was for.

His ears caught her question. It wrenched at him, well-intentioned though it was. Was he okay? Could he truly say he was okay? No, but could he say he wasn’t? He wasn’t hurt. He’d been living like this for nine months now, so it didn’t appear harmful, in the strictest sense. To say that he was all right now, though…that would be accepting this as normalcy. That would be saying that he would never become whole again. That would be saying that, on some day when he wished for everything to be normal again, he would be wishing to be exactly what he was now. Such thoughts disgusted him.

Nevertheless, he brought his head down with a sharp jerk, a nod. He didn’t agree with the condition he was in, but it was the only honest answer he could give. He wasn’t in any pain except for the bruise developing on his shoulder, and that would pass in a few days with no trouble. He wished he could explain himself to the femme. When he was whole, it would have taken no time to express the conflict in his mind. Now, he didn’t dare speak unless absolutely necessary. It normally caused too much stress both for him and the listener. For now, the nod would suffice.

As would his display. The femme had the idea. He shifted his legs with great difficulty and slowly, unsteadily maneuvered himself to lie down on the garbage beneath him. He laid his head on his forepaws, his nose sniffing periodically. Even in this “relaxed” position, his body was not at rest, twitching and shivering. At least, lying down, he knew he wasn’t about to fall off of his feet while standing still.

[Zephyra]

Tears welled in Myth's blue eyes. She finally broke down just a bit. Watching this brute writhe around was so pitiful. He couldn't help it. Myth racked her brain for things she could do for him. She saw him dig down into the garbage but she was intent on helping him. She pawed the trash away from him and made a small spot and lay down beside him and began cleaning his head. That was all that she could think of to do. Hopefully it would make him feel better. Myth was a light so she helped a dog when they were in need. Maybe this would show the male that Myth wasn't here to hurt him, only to help him. By now she had guessed that he either couldn't talk or just wouldn't talk. It didn't bother her. She just continued cleaning the dirt from his head. He had quite a lot of dirt and fleas on his head. She could tell that this disease or illness that he had was preventing him from being a regular dog. However it didn't mean he was less of a dog than any other dog. After a while Myth stopped licking him and waited for him to react in any way.

[Sheelawolf]

Madder’s nose picked up an increase in the scent that represented the femme’s distress at his condition. Now it was his turn to feel sorry for her. He wished he could explain to her that, though his condition was terrible, he wasn’t so bad off. Once, he’d been a mighty dog, the pride of his little family pack. The same might that helped him hunt prey, win scuffles, and outrun his relatives in races was with him through the illness, however pathetic he looked. He had to admit to himself, however, that it wasn’t all with him. Nine months of illness, the abandonment of his family, and the sheer difficulty of survival had worn on him, draining his resolve to remain the mighty dog he’d been previous to the illness. In all honesty, the femme’s sorrow was doing him good. It made him want to fight for his dignity so she could stop feeling sorry for him. He certainly didn’t want to be a pain to any dog.

He remained as still as his spasming muscles would let him as she came and prepared a place for herself to lie down near him. It hadn’t taken him long to develop some trust for her after sensing her reaction to his situation. He was surprised, however, when she began washing his head. It had been months since he had been cleaned properly. Anytime he’d tried to clean himself, he usually missed the spots that needed the most attention and had eventually given up the business altogether. The scents of his chosen hiding grounds, the sewer, the reservoir, the cemetery, and this junkyard were one with him now. He was sure he not only looked but also smelled repulsive.

As the femme tended to him, however, he relished the care of another dog, especially one that didn’t seem to consider the task a chore as his siblings had. He reveled in the thought that, finally, for a short while, he might look like a respectable dog. She couldn’t have done anything to lift his spirits more. While his family had put up with him as a burden for a time and then abandoned him, for the first time in three months this femme had been willing to volunteer some of the attention he’d needed. Since his family had left him, she’d actually been the first dog he’d had any contact with.

As she paused, he turned and sniffed at her, his nose gathering what his eyes couldn’t. His tail was wagging wildly, twitching this way and that. She deserved his gratitude, so he decided to give what he could. He leaned as close to her ear as he dared, considering the risk that a wild spasm would cause his muzzle to collide with her head. ”Th’nks, fr’hnd.’ Even in such close proximity, it was difficult to tell if he’d spoken, or had merely breathed.

Regretfully, that was the extent of Madder’s ability to express his thanks. He sighed and looked away, searching his mind for something else he might do for the femme, but nothing came to him. Unfortunately, his illness hindered him here as well.

Much though he enjoyed the treatment he’d received, Madder didn’t want to take advantage of the femme, even if by accident. He rose to a sitting position, his tail still thumping appreciatively, even as the movement pulled him away slightly. He knew he probably looked stranger now than before, his head groomed, the rest of him still disheveled, but the thought was a fleeting one. More important was the fact that someone cared.

He didn’t really want to leave. It felt wrong to accept a favor of someone without at least lending his time. On the other paw, he wasn’t sure what value he could be to her, unable to communicate with her as dogs usually do. He sniffed and listened attentively for any sign of what she would like to do.

[Zephyra]

Myth smiled and blinked away her tears as she heard Madder talk and wag his tail. She is was extremely surprised when she saw him sit up. This male was very unique and he was very strong though he had a disabling illness. Myth had a lot of respect for him already, though she hadn't met him long ago. Myth was also amazed when Madder talked. She thought that he couldn't. Though it was just a mumble, she knew he was grateful. This male was not a burden to Myth whatsoever. She loved helping other dogs and she knew this male needed her help terribly. He wasn't completely helpless as anyone could see but he needed help. Soon Myth began cleaning him again, hoping to rid his fur from some of the dirt and fleas that inhabited it. Hopefully when she was done this male would be cleaner and happier. His coat was very filthy so cleaning him very well was a task but it didn't matter whatsoever. She would do everything that she could to help him. Many minutes passed and she stopped cleaning. She took a second look and she noticed that she had done a commendable job. He looked much cleaner than when she had started. A smile crossed her face as she watched him. Hopefully he would react just like he had before. Maybe even happier.

[Sheelawolf]

Madder sat as still as possible, despite his incessant shuddering. The femme had decided to finish, so he supposed she wasn’t doing it out of obligation. If she felt pity for him, he could smell that it was mingled with honest-to-goodness respect like she might show any dog. It would be nice to be just any dog….

He shut his eyes as she continued to wash him, panting and wagging his tail with pleasure. When she finished, he opened his eyes. They rolled uselessly, but he could smell her pleasure. He returned her smile with a shaky grin of his own. He felt much better. His fur felt like it was lying all in place now, the way a respectable dog’s fur should. He struggled to his feet and tried to shake himself to release some of the pent-up energy his elation was giving him….

…And fell over. He grunted, and stretched out his foreleg to try to get up again. Once he rolled to his belly, he turned his head to feel his fur. A little ruffled, but no more than the average dog’s fur from the feel of it. The reminder that he wasn’t just any dog had been embarrassing, but he’d endured worse. He pulled his twitching legs in, rocking to a more stable resting position. He’d have to be more careful to maintain his fur the way it appeared now, but he wasn’t about to go back to the way he had looked any sooner than necessary.

[Zephyra]

Myth wagged her tail for she could tell that this male was extremely happy. She was very happy that she had made someone else happy. She loved helping anyone in need. Suddenly her happiness turned back to sadness as she watched the brute fall to the ground. What could she do? Nothing. All she could do was encourage him and help him feel better. Oddly, she liked being around the brute. He had a sense of pride about him although he was hindered by this illness. She knew he was a normal dog inside. Myth leaned down and licked the brute on the head, trying to encourage him to get up. Hopefully this wouldn't make him feel like a dependent pup. However if he was more comfortable on the ground, rather than sitting up, Myth did not mind it at all. Myth's stomach was aching from the cheeseburger she ate. It had probably been carrying some stomach virus. She had had it before so it didn't bother her. Myth's puphood had taught her to be tough and not to let small things bother her very much. All she was focused on was helping a dog that needed help.

[Sheelawolf]

Madder felt the femme licking him after his fall and he knew what she was trying to do. He ignored it on purpose. He didn’t want to encourage her to coddle him and always be telling him what to do because he was sick. He knew what he needed. He also didn’t want to alienate her by responding negatively. He liked her and didn’t want to jeopardize the friendship that was forming. Madder figured his best course of action was to let her get the idea that she wouldn’t get any response from him for trying to encourage him as a mother encourages her pup. He wasn’t a pup anymore.

Despite her faux pas, Madder liked the femme. She was helpful and nice, despite his appearance before she’d cleaned him. Many dogs interpreted his rolling eyes, twitching movements, and constant drool as the sign of some form of madness, and when they learned his name, it was almost confirmation to them. He wondered how she’d react to learning his name. He wasn’t about to tell her. Once, he’d been proud to wear it, but now that it’s true meaning was obscured by his condition, he was glad he couldn’t talk clearly enough to warrant sharing it.

He sniffed. Her scent had shifted somehow. He still couldn’t identify what was wrong, but she didn’t smell as happy and content as she had been, and it didn’t appear to be caused by her feelings about him. He turned his head toward her and sniffed again, but the new problem and her emotions regarding it hadn’t escalated enough for him to identify them. He waited. He was sure he’d find out eventually. Either she’d explain the situation to him or it would escalate to the point that he could smell it more clearly.

[Zephyra]

Suddenly Myth backed up a foot or two. She could tell that this male had had enough of her trying to help him and encourage him. She couldn't disagree. She couldn't stand being treated like a pup. Pain filled Myth's stomach. Her stomach felt like it was being turned upside down. She managed to mumble to the brute before she ran off, I...I'll be...right back. Myth was able to get at least ten feet away before she threw up. Her stomach ached again and she shook her head. She was dizzy now from throwing up but she made it back to the brute. She sat down a couple of feet away and stared at him once more. The brute didn't want any more help she guessed and he didn't seem like he could really speak, so what was she to do? Myth felt a bit weak because her stomach was empty but she wasn't going to eat anything out of the dump again. Myth then turned her attention back to the brute. She wished he would talk again if he could but it was fine. Quietly she waited for him to speak.

[Sheelawolf]

The femme stepped back quickly, and Madder lifted his head a little higher, his quivering ears perking. What had been disturbing her? Had she been able to sense his feelings like he was able to smell hers? Or was it what he had sensed before? It was difficult to tell. He sniffed a bit more, and finally caught what he was looking for. Her condition was worsening. The poor femme was sick.

He could hear her muttering that she’d return before she put some distance between them and hurled. As she returned, he sniffed again. If she was ill, he knew it was important to figure out what was causing it. His twitching muzzle wrinkled in disgust at the vomit stench that lingered on her, but he continued sniffing until he could discern the different elements of the stink. Strongest of everything was the smell of some kind of food, old meat, but not one he could easily identify. He was much more accustomed to scenting out bugs and rodents. This was neither.

Whatever it was, he was fairly sure it was what was making her so ill. Her body was already forcing her to do the best thing for herself, clearing out her system of the poisons in the refuse she’d consumed. He couldn’t think of anything else that could possibly help. If he were in her place, though, he was pretty sure he’d be wanting a drink right now.

There was the reservoir. It still held clean water, even now that the humans that built it were all gone. Besides that, it was closer to his home in the sewers while not quite on Cambridge territory. It was a winning situation for both of them. He slowly pushed himself up on shaking, unstable legs to a standing position and began to move, one twitchy step at a time toward the exit of the dump. After a couple steps, he paused and looked back at the femme, wagging his tail, which never stayed still anyway. He was concerned that she might think he was leaving because of his disgust at her illness when he really wanted her to follow.

[Zephyra]

Myth's stomach heaved as she felt the need to vomit again. Again she walked away from the brute but this time got farther before she threw up. When she stopped, she sighed quite loudly. Ugh. She could smell the stench on her coat. It smelled like the rotten cheeseburger and garbage but ten times worse. She thought about leaving for she didn't want to disgust the brute. However she decided against it and while she walked, shook her coat, hoping to rid herself of the stench. No good. She didn't guess it would help anyways. When she reached the brute, she spoke calmly, though her stomach seemed to be turning upside down. I hope I'm not bothering you to much. I ate something out of the garbage. After a minute or two she watched the brute struggle to his feet and begin walking off. She hoped she wasn't disgusting him. After a few seconds, she realized what he was doing. Though Myth didn't know this land very much, she had heard of a water reservoir but had just thought of it now. Immediately, she began following the brute, at a quick pace to catch up. Hopefully she could get a drink and rid herself of the disgusting smell.