DogForge Read Online Free PDF Page B

Samus ordered.
    A trio of marauders ran over the hills, noses to the ground.
    Samson growled at Denali and locked his eyes onto hers.
    Samus stood between them and looked at either. “My son is dead.”
    The words drifted in the air like a snowflake in the wind. It was a statement, not an observation.
    “And you,” he snarled at Denali, “are the one who led him to this.”
    Denali averted her eyes and stared at Samus’s massive paws.
    “Look at me!” Samus bellowed out.
    Denali looked up into a face of barely contained rage. Samus’s eyes were ringed with liquid and his lips quivered. She’d never been more afraid in her life.
    “Why?” he said in a low growl. “Why?”
    “It was a game,” Denali said.
    “A game,” Samus spat.
    “They chased after me, I went farther.”
    “But why?” Samus asked again, louder.
    “We were having fun, it was a game,” Denali said, almost believing herself.
    Samus locked his eyes onto Denali’s and held her in the grip of his sorrow. The wind stirred and the marauders stood as sentinels in the distance. Denali watched the sorrow on Samus and could feel the eyes of the pack on her. Her fault. But most of all, she couldn’t bear to look at Grat. He always knew when she was lying. She prayed he wouldn’t ask, but knew he would.
    “I should have killed you that night,” Samus said. He turned and stood next to Samson. “You killed one.”
    Samson looked to Denali and back to Samus. “I did.”
    “How?”
    Samus stared at the ground.
    “He stood on its shoulders and pinched its spine,” Denali said quickly.
    Samus turned his head to listen but wouldn’t look at Denali.
    “Is a good place to bite.” Samus nodded. “Show me your teeth.”
    Samson bared his blood flared teeth.
    “It was an old one, it only one leg,” Denali added again.
    Samus looked at Samson’s teeth and snorted. “Maybe. Maybe,” he said, but didn’t sound convinced.
    “Sabot was on it first,” Denali said, trying to weave the tale. “Then Samson leaped onto it. The claws knocked me to the ground, they both saved me.”
    “So I’ve traded a son for a runt,” Samus spoke again, harshly.
    Grat looked on in silence. His jowled face wore no emotion but his eyes wore sorrow like a old cloak.
    Samus turned and walked away, alone.
    Two of the marauders came and helped Samson to his feet and walked him down into the camp. Denali tried to stand. Grat came close and helped her up. His eyes showed concern and a touch of confusion. Denali could barely bring herself to look at him.
    They walked slowly through the scree field. Denali stepped gently onto each stone and felt the reassuring weight of Grat at her side. The ordeal seemed a bit less with his large form by her side. She glanced up at him, but looked away quickly before he noticed. She wanted to tell him, tell him everything, she’d done nothing wrong other than shirk a day’s work. She wanted to do the right thing, but she wanted to prove herself to him. To everyone.
    The journey down out of the scree field brought them through low and jagged rocks with wispy willows clinging to every crevice. It smelled like home to Denali. The scents of dried caribou wafted with the smell of dogs, young and old.
    The remnants of some long lost structure clung to the hills. Bands of rust streaked conduit danced between the buildings, all to some function no one knew. Between the facilities great columns rose up as if to placate the heavens, but only rust perched on top. It all looked like a drunken spider wove it together to capture some giant insect.
    There were eyes on the pair as they walked laboriously through the camp. Denali wondered if they knew yet, she guessed they did, and skulked as quickly as she could.
    Grat stepped first into the building and sat with a grunt. A pile of willow branches crumpled and cracked as he settled himself in. “Tell her,” Grat said to Denali, and closed his eyes.
    Barley jumped up from a mound of sleeping pups with