10-03-2018, 09:40 PM
The house locked up, Tristan doused the lights. It still felt odd to not call for Siggi to come to bed. Just as it felt odd to crawl under blankets without her for company. Mourning was an odd conflict within, though. Sadness stretched out like shadows, but not despair. Her life was full. A happy dog. Playful to the end. Ornery to the end. But it was still too soon to think about finding a new pup. Too soon...
He dreamed of birds squawking on cliffs. Walking on summer-green grass. Of burning kettles overflowing in the kitchen. Random and odd things that made no sense when put together. Eventually, sleep deepened with the midnight. And the dream changed.
Running. Always running. A river streamed alongside. Disappearing over the edge of nothingness. A great cliff. The edge that rushed nearer and nearer. He lept with full speed, body bulging with blood and exertion, but it was the ground below that moved up to his feet.
He came to rest at the bottom of a waterfall. It’s gray misty wetness curled droplets in his beard and tickled his nose like he had a cold. He swiped at his face with a sleeve, pulled a hood up from damp shoulders. Water roared his ears. Stop running and you will be found.
So he stopped, turned in a circle, and blinked at what was waiting.
Tristan couldn’t believe his eyes. “Siggi?” Black and white fur and a thick, heavy tail. Its body was the size of a bear. Ears folded forward, only to flicker in irritation for Tristan’s question.
It lifted from the water side. Gulping down the water with great laps of its tongue. The water dripped down the thickness of its throat, but animal was unconcerned.
It looked at him and shook its head no, then went back to its drink.
A thought came to him, one of a smaller animal jumping and rolling at his feet. Another stepped near, great massive paws the size of the firsts’ head. I am no dog. A thought followed, but it wasn’t a defensive retort.
Tristan licked his lips. His heart pound in his chest, muscles tense as hewn logs. The animal licked its own lips contentedly and sat back on its haunches to look at him. Somehow, Tristan got the sense that the animal thought he was an idiot.
“You’re a wolf.” He spoke. The animal yawned, and Tristan blinked. The reaction was not what he expected.
“But there are no wolves in Iceland.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The animal snorted and started to walk away.
He dreamed of birds squawking on cliffs. Walking on summer-green grass. Of burning kettles overflowing in the kitchen. Random and odd things that made no sense when put together. Eventually, sleep deepened with the midnight. And the dream changed.
Running. Always running. A river streamed alongside. Disappearing over the edge of nothingness. A great cliff. The edge that rushed nearer and nearer. He lept with full speed, body bulging with blood and exertion, but it was the ground below that moved up to his feet.
He came to rest at the bottom of a waterfall. It’s gray misty wetness curled droplets in his beard and tickled his nose like he had a cold. He swiped at his face with a sleeve, pulled a hood up from damp shoulders. Water roared his ears. Stop running and you will be found.
So he stopped, turned in a circle, and blinked at what was waiting.
Tristan couldn’t believe his eyes. “Siggi?” Black and white fur and a thick, heavy tail. Its body was the size of a bear. Ears folded forward, only to flicker in irritation for Tristan’s question.
It lifted from the water side. Gulping down the water with great laps of its tongue. The water dripped down the thickness of its throat, but animal was unconcerned.
It looked at him and shook its head no, then went back to its drink.
A thought came to him, one of a smaller animal jumping and rolling at his feet. Another stepped near, great massive paws the size of the firsts’ head. I am no dog. A thought followed, but it wasn’t a defensive retort.
Tristan licked his lips. His heart pound in his chest, muscles tense as hewn logs. The animal licked its own lips contentedly and sat back on its haunches to look at him. Somehow, Tristan got the sense that the animal thought he was an idiot.
“You’re a wolf.” He spoke. The animal yawned, and Tristan blinked. The reaction was not what he expected.
“But there are no wolves in Iceland.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
The animal snorted and started to walk away.