Cassandra's Cry

by Majadin

Prologue: A Choice Profound is Bittersweet...

His earliest memories were of warmth and food-milk-scent, and of other bodies pushing him around while he struggled against them for a place. He was smaller than the others, and mother-food-warm had only so much, and he was too small, too quiet to get noticed. When the hurt-hungry-sad in his belly became too much, he cried, though he couldn't hear it at the time, and only then did things change. Smooth-gentle-touch lifted him from the warm to a different warm, giving him food that didn't smell like mother-food-warm but filled his tummy without struggle from bigger bodies. Smooth-Gentle-Touch smelled new, and he grew to love that touch more than the scent of mother-food-warm and the Many-Bodies-Shoving.

As he grew older, his eyes opened, his ears became a window to a world of sound, and he began to understand more. Mother-Food-Warm became Mother, and he knew she was tired. The Many-Bodies-Shoving were his littermates, many of them, too many for Mother alone to take care of all of them. As Smallest, he was forgotten in favor of Biggest-Bite and Jumps-on-Everyone, he did not seek attention like Sings-to-Night, Crooked-Ears, Growler, or Eats-Too-Much, and he wasn't as interested in the bouncing play of Nose-Goes-Everywhere and Pounce-Tail-Tugger. Not that Smallest cared—there was too much of interest in the two-legged creature that he recognized as Smooth-Gentle-Touch.

He would spend his waking moments watching, confused but learning, some from Mother, but more from Smooth-Gentle-Touch. Smallest learned that the two-legs were Pack-But-Not-Pack, that they were another kind who lived and loved like Pack, with Pack, and that they came in shapes and sizes of all kinds. He learned that they came with faces and feelings he understood but did not know how he knew, particularly since their chattering mouth sounds were as meaningless as the ones made by the fluffy-thing-out-the-see-through-stone or flappy-things-that-flew. Smooth-Gentle-Touch was old and male, but his paw-touch and rough mouth sounds meant more to Smallest than anything, and Smallest would seek him out whenever he could. Smooth-Gentle-Touch always saw and heard Smallest, always had time and good-feelings for him, and in turn, Smallest loved the old two-leg with all he was.

Those early days in his life had little meaning, stretching into some obscure and hazy notion of Before, Now, After, into an idea he barely grasped called Many. They were good days, and despite being Smallest, he was happy, Smooth-Gentle-Touch was happy, and life was good. Even the days when his food changed to soft crunchies that smelled of Tasty, he was happy, unlike his littermates who cried when Mother would not let them at the food she had anymore. That was when he and his littermates began seeing many new two-legs, often small two-legs that his nose told him were pups to the larger ones. When this happened, they would play with his littermates, and make many loud cries, all of them smelling of excitement and happy.

And sometimes, something he could not quite understand happened, where a two-leg would stare at one of his littermates and they would stare back, and then the two-leg would take that littermate to their pack. Those times, it meant that his littermate would leave with the two-leg’s pack, and not return. At first, it frightened him, this strange Choosing, and he hid, shivering, in Smooth-Gentle-Touch’s lap, not wanting to be Chosen….but when Smooth-Gentle-Touch reassured him with petting and soft mouth-sounds, Smallest realized that the two-leg smelled of happy with each Choosing--and so did Mother. So he put aside fear in a desire to understand why the Choosing was so important, and he continued to watch and listen in silence, not wanting to be noticed. None of the new two-legs seemed to notice him anyway, but that was alright—many were young and small and much like his littermates: loud and bouncy.

Then everything changed and he understood why the two-legs were Pack-But-Not-Pack. Why the Choosing happened. What happened with a Choosing.

That day was like any other day with new small two-legs coming to play with his littermates, making happy sounds as they tumbled over each other, tails wagging. Except one little two-leg didn't. Small, thin, she hid back from sight, watching with large eyes. She didn't smell of happy, like all the others. She smelled of fear, of worry, of something he couldn't name...

It called to Smallest, tugged on something inside him that he hadn’t felt before. For the first time, he left Smooth-Gentle-Touch’s side. His paw steps were quick but careful, weaving through the forest of towering legs so much bigger than him, unnoticed. None of the two-legs even looked down at him, and he reached the small-female whose scent made him sad. Unlike his littermates, he didn't bark or whine or jump for her attention--instead he sat down in front of her, one forepaw touching her hind-paw. She looked down at him, startled, and when he only wagged his tail, her scent changed, fear giving way to happy.

She glanced around again, flinching when one of the other two-legs moved too fast and too close, and retreated to a nearby corner, fear-scent rising again. Smallest followed her closely, still wagging his tail as she curled up on the floor, shaking, and carefully he climbed into her lap, leaning his whole body against her to offer comfort. Thin arms held him tight, and her face rested against his fur, but her shaking became less the longer he sat there, quietly watching her.

This two-legs was like him, he decided, smallest and different, not like the others. She didn't chatter like every other two legs, and her touch was careful and warm and soft--she didn't pull on his ears and tail like the others did. Instead, she offered small Tasty food from her pocket, and made tiny sounds of happy when he licked her nose in thanks. This two-leg was special, Smallest decided. He decided something else too—this two-leg was his.

And when his two-leg couldn't make the chattering sounds to get her pack’s attention after one of the other two-legs almost trampled them, Smallest did something else new and different. He stood in front of his new two-leg, drew in as much breath as he could, and put everything into a single bark that made the room go silent and still as eyes turned to towards him. He met their gazes and then settled back down in his two-leg’s lap, feeling her hug him tight, pressing a damp face to his neck.

That day Smallest found more than a new home. He found his purpose, his Chosen human, and a Name.

That was the day Smallest became Spike.

Author's Note:

Once again, I apologize for the chapter delay on the main story, so I hope these two chapters make up for it!

Comments

[Stet709]

Getting into the mindset of a newborn puppy must've been interesting to write. I like it

[The Voice in the Water]

I think you did an amazing job of conveying Spike's puppy mindset.

The end part with Twi was also really heartwarming.

[Revel Montaro]

I've read other stories about different perspectives of characters. I think this is the first I've seen or at least the first time I've read one for Spike. This will be a great companion piece.