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couldn’t overcome the weight of the dog on its back. It thrashed and pumped with both arms but the beast was locked on. The machine threw its slender leg and tried to roll. The dog wavered, shifted, and pinned the bot tight.
    A click, almost imperceptible above the sounds of the fight, announced the end. The limbs of the skelebot went rigid like steel pipes and the head crumbled back. The dog gave one final head shake and tore the skull free.
    Denali sat down hard. Her hind legs sprawled out to the side. The pain in her chest was like being wrapped in a hot iron blanket. She fixed her eyes on the dog and waited for it to turn.
    The victor stood on the shoulders of the skelebot before dropping the head with a thud. He seemed reluctant to turn and face Denali. His tail wagged slowly and he lowered his heavy paws onto the ground.
    “Thank you,” Denali said. Lights danced in her eyes and every breath tortured her.
    The dog stirred and his eyes grew soft. His tongue came out and he panted. He stepped closer and looked down at Denali.
    “Thank you,” she said again and laid down even farther. The pain grew like burning embers.
    He said nothing and looked to his side. A thin gash dripped a tiny rivulet of blood. His tongue darted out slowly and lapped at the wound.
    The scent hit Denali again. More were coming. “We have to go.” She coughed and tasted more blood. “There’s more! More coming!” Her eyes darted to the dead skelebot. Even through her pain she knew they had to go, the smell was now a mechanical stench.
    He stretched his paws out before him and tucked in tight to the ground. His tongue came out again.
    “We need to go? Can you hear me? There’s more of them, can’t you smell it?”
    Then she knew. Exile. The gifts once bestowed by the machine gods were stripped away. His teeth would fall out. His body no longer healed as quickly. But more importantly, his mind was that of a regular dog. The consciousness they were born with was taken away. It was but an animal.
    But it was an animal that saved her life.
    “Go, go!” The fear came back. She had to go, move, get away, but her legs felt so weak.
    The smell wafted on the wind, thick and tarry. The dog stirred and his ears snapped up. His giant head scanned the ruins.
    Denali knew her nose was better than almost everyone else, and even better than this one, she thought. “Good, good!”
    The dog stood and trotted away.
    “No!” Denali tried to stand again, fiery pain slammed into her chest. She cried out and lay shaking. It took her a moment for the burning to subside. When she looked up again, the exile was gone.
    The wind shifted once more. Grit blew down from the tops of the walls and a scattering of dust shifted through the abandoned city. The smell left Denali for a moment, but came back on the swirls.
    She pleaded to herself to move. Grew angry, spat and snarled. She got herself into this mess, she’d damn well get out. Always trying to prove herself tough. Well, now here was her chance. Get out, tell them that Samson ran first. She put Sabot out of her mind, it was no one’s fault. All of their fault. She just felt afraid and wanted to be back with the pack. Even if she felt like an outsider.
    First one paw and then the next. Both of her front legs shook like willows in the wind. Every breath brought a searing pain.
    One step. Her back legs quivered even worse than the front. Then her front paw faltered and she fell again. She yelped and whimpered as she rolled from side to side. All of this, she thought, over a stupid caribou.

CHAPTER THREE
Chalk
    D enali woke and felt cool grass underneath her. She took a short sniff. The air smelled clear. She opened her eyes.
    The hills around her were shrouded in green with the wreckage of some long forgotten mechanical monstrosity sprawled on the side. It was like a great fish deposited into the rock and slowly returning into the earth. Heaps of scrap piled on the slopes beneath it. Mounds of salvage.