Random Freewrite 1: Week of 4/10/11

(Yes, I'm still doing this. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. It's silly, and I know it's silly.)

Two Tails

an episode

(4)

(Some time later.)

Night had fallen. It was raining, too. Little more than a drizzle.

The house seemed quite tiny, with some windows glowing orange and some windows quite dark.

They could see it from where they were, on the faint slope of the schoolyard.

The Sheep sat on eir rump, resting eir aching feet. The Dog stood next to em, slightly in front. Alert. Eir tail was a stiff line curling slightly over eir back. Eir ears twitched. Eir eyes were set wide and staring, however, down at the house with the tree.

Somehow, it seemed a little wrong. Blocky and hard.

Home had called em all along, but now that they had made it there, ey couldn't find its scent.

The Sheep was very still. Slumping. Eir wool drooped over eir eyes and across eir hooves. Eir head hung low. Ey looked weary and wet.

Very quietly, the Dog sidled up to em and slid down on eir own rump. Eir hip brushed along the Sheep's shoulder, and when ey sat, ey sat on a hoof. The hoof didn't move or seem to mind. The Dog's shoulder nudged into the Sheep's side, and the Sheep bleated once, softly. A lonely sound. But the Sheep didn't move. Ey just sat there with a Dog on eir hoof and stared at the house.

The Dog knew the Sheep was hungry. Ey could hear the soft stomach noises beneath the hum of night.

Ey shifted eir weight and, leaning close, tucked eir chin across the back of the Sheep's neck. It was very soft there. And warm, down deep in the wool. The scent of grass and rain was very strong, but the scent of the Sheep was stronger. The Dog pressed eir nose in tighter against the wool.

The night air was very thick. Sounds and smells and cold wet rain. It felt too big for them. The sounds were too many, the smells too close. Ey was whining very faintly, high-pitched and helpless, as ey breathed out a sigh. It hurt when ey choked it out; it caught in eir throat, but the Dog swallowed over it. That's what Dogs do when Sheep depend on them, and ey was a very good Dog. Ey knew ey was. Ey was very well trained.

The Sheep hadn't made a sound. But something felt different. Calmer. Heavier. The Dog felt the weight against eir chest, and the press of damp, grass-stained wool against eir muzzle.

The Sheep was leaning back.

Just a little.

They were both dirty and matted. And itchy, too. Ey felt the Sheep's skin twitch deep within the wool. So ey dug eir nose in and nibbled there with gentle teeth. The Sheep's muscles jumped, then stilled as the Dog found itch after itch. Gradually, the Sheep calmed underneath the Dog's care, folding eir legs under eir chest to relax on the ground. And although the Fleas were still there, somewhere, ey seemed to become a little calmer.

So had the Dog. Ey draped emself over the Sheep, chin over back, keeping watch for an itch.

And if the Fleas decided to feed on em instead, well, the Dog was content with that.