Smallest did not go with his new two-leg right after the Choosing. Instead, her pack stayed until all the other two-legs had left, the large two-legs—his two-leg’s Mother and her mate—chattering with Smooth-Gentle-Touch, waving their front paws at him, at his small two-leg. It wasn't bad—the more they chattered, the more the female he was cuddling smelled of happy and excited, and soon she started making sounds at him. It was not the howling chatter of the other small two-legs, but a steady stream of quiet noises, one repeated over and over as she touched his nose with her paw gently.
He understood it must be a Name, this repeated mouth sound directed at him, but only when he heard the larger two-legs call a single set of sounds at his new friend repeatedly, until she looked up at them. Two-legs Named with mouth-sounds, he realized, instead of the knowing and feeling of Pack kind. That meant the mouth sounds of Naming were important to his new two-leg...and if it was important to her, Smallest would learn.
His small two-leg smelled of happy and sad, carrying him to her pack. When they chattered inquisitively at her, she proudly repeated the Name she had given Smallest. He committed the sounds to memory, Smallest-who-was-now-Spike, and and made a soft yip when she said it, to let her know he understood, his ears focused on her. All the two-legs made sounds of happy, and the Mother two-leg repeated the Name, reaching a paw out for him to sniff. He yipped again, and that earned him soft ear scratchies that felt good. The knowing he couldn't explain told him that his small two-leg’s pack accepted him.
So when Smooth-Gentle-Touch took him from his two leg’s paws, Smallest-who-was-Spike cried out in confusion and something like pain. Why was his two-leg being taken from him? He had Chosen, they belonged with each other. He fought with everything he had to get to her, against the paws that he had always loved, desperate to wiggle free, eyes and ears and nose fixated on the two-leg that was his.
It was so unlike him that Smooth-Gentle-Touch almost dropped him, and his new friend ran forward to stop his fall. He pawed at her, whining and licking, not understanding, because he was supposed to be with her now. That was how this worked. She pressed her short nose to his head, giving soft Name sounds to him, pulling him back into her arms.
Mother intervened at last, padding over on heavy paws. She took Smallest-Spike from his two-leg by the scruff, before curling up with him, her tongue grooming his fur gently. In a way he could understand better, she soothed his fear. His Choosing was good, but his two-leg was different, he was different, and so the Things That Are were different....but he would see his two-leg again.
Smallest-Spike watched the two-leg pack leave, his Chosen two-leg watching him until her Mother pulled her away....and for the first time in a while Smallest-Spike cried himself to sleep.
The warm light of the sun came and went several times, and became the beginning of the Time of New Games, where Smallest-Spike was alone with Smooth-Gentle-Touch. The New Games were strange, and he could not understand at first the why of them. The old male would make distressed mouth sounds, even though he did not smell of hurt or sad, and when Smallest-Spike would investigate why, he would get ear scratchies and a new Tasty called a Treat.
Smallest-Spike decided he liked Treats.
Soon he found he knew before Smooth-Gentle-Touch was going to make the bad mouth sounds, and positioned himself nearby, still trying to understand why this happened. The two-leg was not hurt, or sad...but made sounds like he was.
Smallest-Spike began to wonder...he was different, his two-leg was different. She smelled of sad and fear a lot, and had trouble making mouth sounds to tell other two-legs. What if they could not see or smell happy and sad like he could, and that was why they used only mouth sounds. If that was true...then his two-leg would not be seen as sad or full of fear. Only made of quiet. Was that what the New Games were for? Was it like when he barked for her?
If that was so, then the New Games were Important, and Smallest-Spike must learn. He watched and listened and learned the mouth sounds. This for sad, this for hurt, this for needing help. He kept his ears perked on the chattering, learning new mouth sounds. He soon understood No and Good and Good Boy. He learned Sit and Stay. With some effort Hush resolved into a request for silence, and Help was a need for him to realize something was wrong.
Smallest-Spike was bigger and stronger when his small two-leg finally returned to him, and he scampered over to her, sitting proudly before her to show off that he was no longer smallest, even if he was still small. She smelled of happy, touching his fur and making the soft mouth sounds at him, calling his Name again and again. He leaned into her, taking in her scent. She smelled of Outside, of fading worry/fear, of happy, and of Tasty food, and he wondered if he would go with her to her pack’s home now.
Not yet, was the answer. Instead, she joined him in the New Games each day, brought by the two-leg Mother. Smooth-Gentle-Touch spoke soft mouth sounds to her, and in turn Twilight—he learned her Name then too, since the older two-legs used it often—played the games with him. He learned even more sounds—words, they were called—and to get things for Twilight, or to help her when she could not do for herself.
Twilight also played real games with him. She was good at tug-the-toy and toss-the-ball, and she gave the best belly-rubs. When they played, she made many sounds of happy and sometimes excited squeaking sounds...but sometimes she came and was quiet and not-happy. It wasn't sad, but it was different, and those times, Twilight did not like playing...or loud sounds, or touch from anyone but Smallest-Spike. Those times, he would sit with her, and Twilight would touch his fur, cry into it, and sometimes shake, just like when they first met.
It gave Smallest-Spike time to think. Twilight was small, like him, and he had not smelled any littermates on her. He decided she was not much older than he was, and the only pup in her litter…or at least the only one still here. He wondered if Twilight had been fed strange food like him, and if being small, alone, and different was what made her not-happy sometimes.
He made the decision that it was when she was not-happy that was when she needed him most, because only Smallest-Spike made her feel happy again, and he began to watch for the moments of not-happy, of fear and of sad, so he could help. He learned the words and the New Games with a dedicated need—focusing with all he was in a way that left the two-legs smelling of surprise. Except for Twilight—when he learned, she smelled only of happy, and she gave him hugs and Treats, scratching his ears and calling him Good Boy.
Good Boy was the highest praise, and Smallest-Spike was determined to be a Good Boy and help his Chosen two-leg, to protect and help her no matter what.
Spike stirred from his nap, from dreams of Before, of memories of when he was Smallest. Something deep inside barked a warning, that the Bad-Thing was coming. Was near. His hackles bristled, and he leapt from his bed to seek Twilight. The Bad-Thing would not have them without a fight.
He found her, putting on a backpack—but it was dark, and the sun slept. He barked worriedly, pawing at her leg. Was she going to go out when the Bad Thing was near? Could she not feel it?
“Oh, hi Spike….I’m sorry, but you cant come tonight. I have too much to carry, so you have to stay here.”
Stay? Yes, Twilight needed to Stay too.
Spike barked, trying to tug her away from the door. They needed to go find a safe place to hide from the Bad Thing.
“No, Spike, stop it.”
He tugged harder, whining and trying to push her deeper into the house.
“I said that’s enough! Bad Dog!”
He let go, stung by being told he was Bad….but determined to keep her safe. Spike let go, but stood between Twilight and the door, growling. He could feel the Bad Thing getting closer.
“What has gotten into you today?” Twilight was upset with him now. “Go lay down, Spike. I’ll be back in a few hours—I’m just going to the park. I’ll be fine.”
No. Twilight had to Stay. He growled louder as she approached the door, but she nudged him firmly out of the way.
“Spike! I’ll take you for a walk tomorrow, but if you don't stop, I will put you in your kennel!”
That gave him pause. If he couldn't convince her to stop, and she locked him in the small den, he could try and get to her another way. He whined and yipped plaintively.
“Go on, I filled your food and water up—go get a snack and I’ll be back soon.”
Twilight pushed him at the kitchen, and got out the door to the outside, shutting it right as he lunged to follow. He hit the hard door and scrabbled frantically at it, barking and howling and baying at her to come back.
She didn’t.
Spike heard the door lock, and he lunged to his paws, intent on finding another way.
The windows were all shut.
The garage was shut.
It took three tries to open the laundry room door—only to learn the back door was locked.
He was trapped, and Twilight was outside.
With the Bad Thing.
All Spike could do was roam the house, searching for a way to get out, to get to her, barely pausing for any reason, knowing she needed him, and he was failing at what he was supposed to do…
She was gone too long. The moon went to its bed and the sun was high in the sky before he detected the sound of someone opening the door, long enough that he had to use the Inside Potty Paper and his food bowl was empty. By the time he got to her, Twilight had staggered in and shut away the Outside. He lunged at her to make sure she was unhurt.
That was when he smelled it.
The Bad Thing.
It was all over Twilight, along with a stranger’s scent. The Stranger reeked of the Bad Thing, of pain, of hurt, of angry. And Twilight, wrapped in another two-legs furs, smelled of sad and hurt and fear.
Spike whimpered, pawing at her as she picked him up and hugged tight, licking a face that tasted of salt and sad. He couldn’t stop the Bad Thing, but he could help now. So he rubbed his nose against her, licked her face and let her hold him tight all the way to her bed. And when she shook and cried, tears soaking his fur, broken words he did not understand trying to tell him what happened, he listened. He stayed. It was nothing he could understand, but that wasn’t important. Important was making her happy, staying with her until she felt Safe again.
But Spike didn’t know how to do that.
Twilight did not feel happy. She did not feel safe. She jumped at sudden sounds, she cried when none of her pack was around, and she did not rest. She shrank back from shadows and grew afraid to go outside….and worse, she hid it from her pack. The Bad Thing had wounded her, but it was not a wound Spike could lick better.
Then came the day she returned home, and she smiled at him and smelled of the faintest bits of happy…
But she also smelled like The Stranger Who Smelled of the Bad Thing.
And then the scent grew stronger, and he heard movement of another two-leg entering.
She had brought The Stranger back with her!
Spike immediately charged, putting himself between Twilight and The Stranger, baring his teeth and growling, interspersed with barks to alert the pack of the danger, all while getting a good look at this Stranger who stank of the Bad Thing and pain.
Twilight picked him up, and he pinned his ears back more firmly. The Stranger needed to leave.
“Spike! Be nice to Sunset! She's a friend!”
Friend?
No. Stranger-Sunset was Bad. And looking into her eyes, Spike realized Stranger-Sunset knew that.
So why did she Stay?