A Dog's Eye View of the Coast

[Montleberry]

Elmer lay quietly at The Mans feet, his head resting in his paws. The long familiar scents and sounds of Beregost and the presence of The Man allowing him to rest comfortably. Lazily one eye opens at the sounds of metal on stone. The Man was in the nearby field with a metal-stick, digging at the ground amid some plants. The lazy eye closed. Elmer doesn't understand much of what The Man does, but this was a familiar sight.

Not long later another, a far more appealing, sound causes both eyes to open. A small gaggle of chickens are loudly squabbling at the sight of an insect. Elmer watches with interest, he knows how tasty chickens are, and how enjoyable it is to chase and catch them. His eyes slowly roll in Edmund's direction. The Man is too near.

The Man is the Boss and only the Boss is allowed to eat chickens, as anytime Elmer tries The Man stops him. Elmer knows his place in the pack. He challenged it once as he went from puppy to adulthood. It is not a mistake he will make again. While Edmund loves his dog as a long time farmer he sees animals as having their place, and will not hesitate to apply harsh discipline when required. Elmer respects and understands this. The Man is strong. The Man is smart. The Man is alpha.

While he doesn't quite comprehend love in the human sense, he knows he respects The Man and understands the man protects him and keeps him safe and provides food. He is happy with his place, few dogs want to loose the comfort of a strong pack leader, being one is a stressful, challenging position for a dog. So Elmer protects and follows The Man, his Man. He closes his eyes again. The Man does not always watch, there will be a time to get chickens.

He hopes The Man will call him soon for the familiar walk to the place with the wood-woman in the flowers. He wants to walk, to smell the things on the road. He wants to lay beside the wood-woman and flowers. It makes him feel warm and happy, though he doesn't know why.

Elmer drifts off to dog dreams, dreams where no one stops his chicken hunts.

[Montleberry]

"Elmer, C'mon, time to be goin."

The dogs eyes spring open and he is on his feet in a flash. The walk! Time for the walk! He desperately wants to leap on The Man in his excitement, but he know this is not allowed. He dashes toward the Beregost gates, then back to the Man. Excitedly he trots alongside.

As they reach the edge of town, the titillating scent of the wild lands ahead fill his nose. He sits near the man watching him expectantly.

The man speaks his funny words, words that make lights, that make the air shimmer. He no longer fears these sounds, these lights. He knows that they make him feel good, feel warm, feel strong, feel safe.

Soon they are on the road. The scents fill his nose. He ranges around never out of sight of The Man. He sniffs at plants, he lifts his leg and waters the trees. Life is good.

Suddenly behind him he hears The Man cry out in surprise, and pain. The smells around him quickly fall to the background as he spins toward The Man. One of those little man-animals is near him. It has a metal-stick and the man's leg is bleeding. It has hurt The Man. It has made The Man bleed. It is trying to hurt the man again. Deep inside instincts left from its distant wolf ancestors surge forward, not as deep in Elmer as some dogs from experiences of violence he has seen on the roads.

Redness fills the corners of his vision. He does not know where the man-animal came from. He does not know why it is trying to hurt The Man, and he does not care. The animal version of rage and anger surges in his chest. The man-animal must be bitten. It must be pulled down. It must be killed for daring to harm the Man, for causing The Man to give off the scent and feel of pain, of anger, of fear.

In a few short bounds he is beside Edmund. Lunging, biting. His teeth sink into the goblin's leg. It shrieks, but the pull of the dogs bite it too much and it falls to the ground. The dog lunges again, teeth sinking into the arm raised just in time to defend it's throat. A scream of pain escapes the goblin as the sound of the frail bones in it's arm snapping can be heard. The dog releases it's bite, as The Man's stick swings through the air, hitting the dirt not far from the goblins head. Elmer does not want an arm, it seeks a throat and lunges again.

The arm too injured to be raised in time, Elmer's teeth find their grip on the goblins throat. He feels it struggle, feels it's good fist beating frantically at his side. The man-animal stops moving, but still he holds, until through the redness and anger it hears The Man. Soothing words, calming words. The Man's hands are on it, pulling. It releases the fallen goblin, still growling at it.

After a few moments of praise and calming words The Man begins to walk again, and Elmer follows. In only moments the anger is forgotten, there are plants to smell and squirrels to chase after all.

He follows The Man along the Trade way, until after a long trip they reach the wood-woman. Elmer lies down beside her, just outside the ring of flowers. A calmness comes over him and he drifts back into a sleep as The Man speaks to the wood-woman in tender tones not unlike the ones he used to hear The Man using when he spoke to The Woman. Elmer remembers The Woman and misses her as he drifts into sleep beside the shrine.

Instead of The Man, The Woman or chicken hunts he dreams, as he always does here, of the The Great Kind Old Lady.

[Montleberry]

Some time after being awakened from his dreams of the Great Kind Old Lady, Elmer trotted along after The Man, their travels along the road back to Beregost pleasant and calm, with not a goblin to be seen.

It had been a long trip and Elmer followed behind The Man a bit weary, not ranging as far as he had while passing north. He faintly noted the sound of wood creaking and his own claws clicking as they crossed on to the bridge. He was ready to be home, ready to lay by the stables with their intoxicating scents of horse and manure.

He stopped short as The Man came to an unexpected halt. He looked where The Man was looking. Another man. Tall, with metal fur. Hard to see. He was blurry like The Man sometimes was after speaking the funny words that made the air sparkle.

What can't be seen must be smelled. He scented the air and his hackles quickly rose. He knows this smell. He has smelled orc before. He has smelled Kogan before. He hesitates. Orc smell usually means a Bad Man, but sometimes The Man tells him it is okay when he caught this scent. He was confused, and there was only one thing to do when confused. He looked to The Man for direction.

The Man was not looking at him, but at the other man with the bad scent and metal fur. The Man spoke, but none were the few words he understood. The other man spoke. He didn't understand the words, but he always understood The Man's tone, and it confirmed this was a Bad Man.

"Elmer, come."

The Man's words were tense, but they were some of the ones he did understand. Relieved for direction he began to follow The Man across the bridge, as he moved off the road to avoid the Bad Man. He felt his claws leave the wood and move onto the soil. His eyes were on The Man, following as he had been told.

Pain! Oh! Oh! Pain!

The yelping squeal of a dog suddenly struck with surprise and pain tore from his muzzle.

Oh! It sting, it burns!

His tail swung down, curling under his legs which franticly kicked backwards away from the Bad Man that was suddenly behind him.

The orc's blade had struck along his shoulder, parting fur, opening flesh. He felt the warm run of his own blood down his back. Fear, panic rose in him, the surprise of the sudden pain almost breaking his nerve he turned his desperate eyes to The Man. Another kind of whine escaped him.

The usual kindness, gentleness he was used to seeing there was absent. What he saw any animal with primal instincts would recognize. There was the intent to deal death in The Man's eyes.

"El!"

He looked just in time, the giant metal stick that caused him so much pain was coming again, just barely he dodge aside as it swung past. And again.

Pain! Pain again!

He was too slow, the orc's blade missed his head barely, the tip of his left ear sliced away.

Then a blinding white light. A light he knew, a light The Man made. The Man was there, beside him. His stick striking the orc across the jaw, across the chest, across the shoulder. A flurry of blows continued, The Man's lip curled back in a snarl few would think his kindly face capable of.

The Bad Man, turned to face the new threat. Swinging his blade at The Man who dodged, blocked the blade with his stick, until one blow was not deflected well enough, the tip of the blade opening a shallow furrow on the Mans brow.

This broke the paralysis of fear and pain in Elmer. His own safety forgotten now that The Man was in danger. Blood running down his back, down his face from his ear he dove at the orc. Jaws snap loudly on air, clinking off the metal covering the Bad Man. Finally he finds a spot without protection and he begins to bite franticly as The Man continues his assault.

Overwhelmed the orc staggers, and is struck in the head again and again with The Man's stick until finally it drops to the ground.

Elmer is on it in a flash, biting, tearing. He cannot put his teeth on throat, the Bad Man has metal fur. He doesn't hear The Man, he doesn't notice The Man trying to pull him from the Bad Man. He continues to bite, to shake when his teeth find purchase. He feels a great pull, he is no longer on the Bad Man, but in the air. He turns with a snarl that vanishes when he sees it is The Man lifting him. His snarl becomes a whine as the pain comes back.

The Man carries him, staggering and panting, on to Beregost. Lays him down inside the safety of the gates. Soon The Man speaks his funny words. The pain stops, the wounds close. He licks The Man's face and sees sadness there, but luckily for Elmer he cares not at all that his left ear now comes to a blunt point nearly a full inch shorter than his right.

Exhausted he slips again to sleep, growling deeply as he dreams.

[Montleberry]

Elmer lifted his head as the familiar scent of land filled his nose. Trotting across the deck with the click of his nails on the wood, the dog placed his paws on the rail. He saw land ahead, and then on each side of him as the small sailing vessel slipped into the mouth of the Chionthar.

Lowering his paws back to the deck he made a quick circle and lay down, content. He would be pleased to be on land again. He didn't much care for boats. The smells were wrong. There was no place for running. The ship's cat had refused all his solicitations to play with hisses.

He and The Man had many weeks before quietly taken to ship in the Baldur's Gate harbor. After what seemed a very long time, growing increasingly pent up aboard, they had arrived in lands Elmer was unfamiliar with. He was familiar with the people there; The Woman, The Girl and The Boy. The Man had taken him to visit the family. The Girl, however, was sick. He could smell it on her.

The next few weeks were some of the better in Elmer's recent memory. Back with his family, The Man was in fine spirits. Elmer spent his time exploring the new smells of this place and playing with The Boy, while The Man spent much time with The Girl. Under his care slowly she became well. It was not long after she recovered that he found himself travelling again.

Now, many days later Elmer lifed his head from the deck, looking for The Man. Edmund was at the bow, a smile on his face as the Gate came into view up the river. With the deck gently swaying and the sounds of civilization growing louder Elmer slipped into sleep as he heard the man say,

"Be almost home El."

[Montleberry]

The hair on Elmer's back and sides began to twitch. There was the scent of rain and storm in the air. The charge of it causing the guard hairs of his coat to subtlety raise. He whined, and came to a stop in the road he had been following The Man down. After a few steps The Man stopped and looked back.

"El, c'mon. What ya doin sittin there? Git on now."

With a whine the dog stood and took a few steps forward before sitting yet again. The Man called on him, and offered encouraging words. Eventually the encouragement turned to sternness and Elmer began to follow as The Man demanded of him.

Not much further down the road it was The Man who came to a sudden halt. So sudden Elmer had to dig his claws into the dirt to avoid walking into his legs. The Man was looking ahead, and soon he saw it too, some strange glowing lights. Surrounding them was a driving rain and swirling masses of air crackling with electricity. Elmer hardly noticed that now his entire coat was standing on end.

Soon The Man turned back along the road, bidding the dog to follow. After a few steps the pair was running along the road and up the hill path to Candlekeep. There, just before the gates The Man spoke to a woman who stood outside the large doors. Soon they were making their way along the road again, this woman at their side.

The Man and this woman led him up a hill that looked down on the lights and storms. The Man spoke to the woman as Elmer sat near, staring at the strangeness ahead. Another man approached up the hill. Elmer stood quickly, alert to this new person's approach. As The Man and woman spoke to this new man he inhaled deeply, pulling the scent of him into his nose. Elmer sat. He knew the smell of elf, a pleasant smell that caused him no concern. He liked the smell of elf in fact.

As the three spoke the rain began to slack. The lights in the road suddenly vanished. The Man and those he spoke to relaxed. He saw this clearly in their movements and felt it in their speech. Calmed himself a bit by their tone he was still not fully able to relax. Several of the the air balls, crackling with whatever it was that made his hair stand on end had not gone with the lights.

As The Man and the other two strode forward Elmer was commanded to sit. He did so as the three approached the swirling winds. The Man striking out with his stick, blasts of light and color flying from the other two.

Soon the strange winds were gone, the hair on his flanks falling against him again. After a few words were exchanged The Man turned to him.

"El, come. Best be making down Beregost way to be sure this tomfoolery aint be goin on there."

Soon after Elmer lay beside the stables. Pleased for the familiar sounds and scents he drifted into sleep.

[Montleberry]

Elmer trotted contentedly along beside The Man. They had just visited the place where some of the Little Men lived. He always liked the Little Men when he visited their places, but the other place where they sometimes visited them was nicer. This place of Little Men had a current of anxiety and tension under the surface that was very clear to Elmer at least, seen in the expressions and body movements of the people there. He had no conception of course of the difference between Gullykin and Corm Orp, but like most dogs he was an expert in reading facial expressions and mannerisms in people and it was clear to him this place was not as nice to visit as the other.

Thoughts of the Little Men did not last long amid all the exiting new smells outside of the walls however. Trotting around Elmer sniffed all that caught his attention. Dirt with the scent of a deer that passed not log ago. A patch of earth were something had urinated. Occasionally he loped off to chase a dragonfly that had strayed over from the stream or bark up a tree at a terrified squirrel. Always though he stayed where he could keep The Man in his sight.

When it came time to cross the stream he watched The Man carefully pick his way across a section of stones, using his walking stick for balance. Once we was over Elmer followed, bounding happily across the water with a great splash. The Man stepped back a few paces as Elmer came up beside him, shaking water from his coat in a fine spray.

As The Man crouched amid some wholesome smelling plants, collecting leaves and slipping them into his satchel, Elmer caught a scent he did not fully recognize on the wind. A few sniffs told him it was coming from the edge of the nearby woods. He offered a few warning barks, but The Man was intent on his work and paid no mind.

With a sniff, Elmer began to follow the scent. It was coming from the other side of the stream, around the bend from where The Man was. A massive fallen tree, many feet across, spanned the stream at the bend. As he approached the near side of the makeshift bridge the source of the concerning scent came into view. Following a deep growl new, louder and more urgent barks tore from his muzzle. This was enough to catch the Man's attention. He stood and turned and now saw what was approaching too.

"Sweet Mother save us..." The Man gasped.

As the Man gaped and Elmer barked the green dragon stepped fully into view from under the trailing trees at the edge of the Forest of Wyrms. It was not the largest of dragons, likely a young one pushed to the edge of the forest by it's larger brethren, but for Edmund and Elmer is was still a towering, fearsome sight to come on unexpectedly and unprepared.

It's bright eyes passed with little interest over Elmer and settled on The Man. A deep rumble that started deep in the beasts chest turned to unfamiliar speech. While Elmer didn't understand the words a tone of cruel amusement was evident. The Man must also not have understood the words, as he stood there motionless with a confused look of horror twitching across his features. The beasts chest rumbled again. The words that came were more familiar to Elmer, but to only one that was a word he clearly understood was "eat".

The dragon took a confident step forward, it's leading foot settling onto the log with a creak. At the same time The Man took an unsteady step backwards. Despite The Man's apparent hesitance Elmer felt none. The Man was in danger and that had always one answer.

Elmer dashed forward suddenly across the log, angry barks echoing through the trees. As the dragon turned it's head down at the silly little creature the look of contempt changed to indignant annoyance in it's eyes. Elmer bit down on a toe, shaking fiercely. With a flick of it's foot the dog was tossed back on the log. The bite had not broken scales, but the look in the beast eyes suggested it did make it angry. It brought a clawed foot down, which Elmer dodged with an instant to spare. And again he dodged as he heard The Man speaking his magic words behind him. When the dragons tail came there was no room on the log to dodge. It caught Elmer full in the side, taking the wind from him and sending him flying through the air, his landing softened a bit by the patch of brambles he came to rest in below the log.

As he looked up he saw The Man step forward onto the log. He was no longer the short, fat man who a moment ago was picking flowers. As he stepped forward to confront the dragon, still towering several feet over his head despite it's youth, his body was alive in Chauntea's magic. A blue radiance cast it's hue on the ground around him and his movements had taken on a speed and grace that his corpulent frame could never had managed on it's own.

"Aint outta have hurt my El I tell ya..." said The Man as he stepped out onto the log, which shook with the rumbling laughter of the dragon's reply.

Again it's tail swept across the log, over The Man's head as he ducked with uncanny speed. Then came a large clawed foot. The Man held his walking stick aloft with both hands and caught the incoming blow. He staggered, but the strength Chauntea's magic gave him was a match for the beast and the blow was pushed aside.

Any look of amusement left the dragon's eyes, to be replaced with a cold, confused malice. As it considered the ridiculous, fat little glowing human before it, Edmund's walking stick tore through the air. Plain as it looked the sound it gave off as it cut through the afternoon breeze was deafening. When it stuck the beast on the brow a terrible wave of sonic energy reverberated through it's skull. Three more blows landed before it could recover.

This time the deep rumbling in it's chest did not produce words, but a horrid, steaming, burning torrent of acid. The log at their feet bubbled and smoked, the patch of plants behind them Edmund had been picking moments ago were turned to a circle of black ruin along with all the grass around them. Edmund however stood unharmed, the acid running harmlessly off him to sizzle and burn the wood at his feet. This was apparently the last straw for the now angry, wounded dragon. It unfurled it's wings and charged head down across the log. With nowhere to go it took The Man full in the chest and sent him flying. He landed on his backside a yard off from the log with a numbing thump, his back now to the dragon, his walking stick thrown out of reach. As he turned he say the dragon approach, still shaking it's head to clear the ringing.

As it's head cleared the log Elmer appeared up the hill in a flash. Dazed the dragon was too slow in recoiling and the dog's teeth clamped on it throat. It was a small enough dragon and Elmer a large enough dog that his bite just managed to take hold. While his teeth could not break through the layer of scales it was enough to cut off the vital passage of air to the dragon's lungs. It shook its head in a fury, lifting the dog from the ground. Dangling in the air as the dragon reared Elmer held on, no differently that when The Man lifted him from the ground playing tug of war over a bit of rope. The beasts claws beat the air frantically and a burning acidic foam began to steam from it's nostrils. Shaking, rolling, dazed already from the sonic blows that had been rained down on it's head the beast collapsed, twitching then soon moving no more.

It took several long minutes for The Man to calm Elmer enough to release his grip. Staggering away they made their way to the outskirts of Corm Orp to make camp and rest. Elmer's dinner that evening came with a generous portion of his favorite treats.

Elmer lay beside The Man at camp and drifted off to sleep, taking no particular pride in being the Sword Coast's newest dragon-slayer.

[Montleberry]

Elmer came to a stop beside The Man. Before them stood a large half-orc with metal-fur and a tall funny white hat behind a rickety wooden stand. The scent of cooking meat coming off was almost more than a dog could handle. He sat down in the road looking eagerly from the smell of meat to The Man. The scent of orc also came through mingled with the delicious aroma of cooking beef. The orc smell made Elmer wary, but the calm nature of the words between The Man and the Meat Smelling Orc allowed him to relax. He could tell by The Man's tone and movement the orc was not a Bad Man.

As The Man leaned over the cooking meat, poking at it with a metal-stick, Elmer fidgeted. He turned his yearning eyes on The Man. He watched eagerly as the Meat Smelling Orc handed a bag to The Man. His nose told him it was full of the meat he had been so eagerly smelling. Forgetting himself for a moment his rump quickly lifted from the ground, but just as quickly he remembered he had been told "sit" and settled back down.

His attention was drawn away from the scent of the bag as the Meat Smelling Orc began to speak excitedly. Wide-eyed and drooling it lumbered forward toward the dog before dropping to it's knees, crawling at him. The high pitched voice and movements reminded him of how The Boy used to approach him. He looked up at The Man for reassurance, and at his nod held firm, allowing the Meat Smelling Orc to pet him. He tensed a bit as the petting turned to hugging. He never really cared for hugging, it made him feel restrained and uncomfortable. Yet he tolerated it. It happened often and he was accustomed to bearing it with a bit of canine dignity. The fact that this allowed him to lick the grease from the Meat Smelling Orc's thick fingers also served as a consolation to the hugging.

Soon Elmer was following The Man again, head turned up as he trotted along side, his attention solely on the bag of meat. It wasn't long before The Man obliged, opening the bag and tossing a round bit of it into the air. Elmer caught it before it hit the ground, and with a few rapid workings of his jaw the meat was gone. Eagerly he looked back to The Man, hoping for more. Yet the man shook his head and bid him to follow.

Sometime later Elmer made a quick circle by the wood-woman in the flowers. Laying down sated, for The Man had given in and slipped him two more helping of beef along the way, he drifted off into sleep. As always here he dreamed of the Great Kind Old Lady.

[Montleberry]

Elmer opened his eyes with a jolt, lifting his head from his paws. The small cart he was settled on had lurched beneath him as a wheel rolled over the edge of a dry rut and landed roughly on the other side. Ahead of him was The Man. He turned his head back over his shoulders, both arms behind him grasping the cart's two arms.

"Sorry, El. Road's a bit bumpity here. Not to worry, only...er....well that map the fella scratched out by the fire last night ain't make it look too far to get on the rest of the way. Be good to be back, won't it. We been away to long eh?"

While the dog didn't understand Edmund's words, Elmer was also aware they were approaching a familiar place long unseen. He had begun to scent the once familiar surroundings some miles past as he had bounced down the road perched amid the bedroll, small crates, buckets and farming tools. Resting his head again upon his paws Elmer drifted off into sleep. The scents of the Coast sent his sleeping mind on dreams of goblins and orcs, magic and fire, dragons and devils, chickens and campfires, only occasionally interrupted by the rough road and the grunts of The Man.

[Montleberry]

"C'mon El" The Man said from ahead of him. Elmer glanced back to the Elf Woman and the elf place beyond. He obediently lifted from his haunches and walked over to The Man. He liked it here, the wholesome elf scents and peacefulness of the surrounding forest. Yet he also liked walks, and his thoughts of the tranquil place that smelled of elves were soon forgotten as he trotted alongside The Man through the woods.

At first The Man lead them swiftly along the paths as Elmer ranged about taking in the scents and sounds of the forest. Occasionally they would come to a stop to wait for The Man to examine some plant or once while he marked his territory.


Soon, however, the purposeful stride slowed and Elmer began to sense anxiety from The Man. The Man looked up at the sky between branches and frequently stopped with a frown of concern as the path he led them on crossed itself or went in a circle. While Elmer had no way to know it, Edmund had become desperately lost in the forest. Worse still as the light began to fade and the shadows of the wood grew about them he detected a sent on the air that raised his hackles. The scent of orc.

Finally, as the last light of day began to fail, The Man's confidence began to return as he led them along a more purposeful path once again. The pair traveled on until reaching the edge of the forest overlooking a vast moor ahead of them. After a brief search for a dry spot The Man stopped and called Elmer into a hastily erected tent.

Elmer drifted off to sleep listening to Edmund's snores and the sounds of the many insects of the wetlands going about their nightly business. Soon he dreamed of running happily through forests full of the scent of elves.

[Montleberry]

Elmer trotted happily along beside The Man, sniffing the familiar terrain. As they splashed over a small crossing in a stream a sudden howling was upon them. A warg with one of the Small Bad Men on it has crested the hill before them and was rushing at the pair crossing the stream.

As it landed beside them in the shallow water and lunged The Man struck out with his walking stick, tripping the beast who had yet to get it's footing on the slippery bank. Elmer lunged on the fallen warg, which was not much larger than he, and bit down on it's neck as it tried to regain it's feet.

At the same moment The Man swung his walking stick down in a practiced arc that took the dismounted rider square on the top of the head, leaving it stunned and swaying. Another quick strike to the chest sent it onto it's back to float away downstream.

Just as the man had coaxed Elmer to release his grip a voice and the sounds of approaching steps came from the small hill at the top of the bank. Elmer turned his gaze up the hill, as did The Man. Standing before them was a Bad Man with orc-scent. He knew it was a bad man because beside him was some Evil Thing of shadow and the smell of brimstone. Beside the Bad Man and Evil Thing as a spider nearly as large as a horse.

At first The Man spoke in his usual polite tones, though Elmer could easily sense the underlying tension in his voice. As the The Man and The Bad Orc spoke the tension in The Man's voice continued to raise. As the rancor in the air rose so did the hackles on Elmer's back. He drew his lips back over his teeth, beginning to growl.

In seconds the Bad Orc has crossed the distance between himself and Elmer. Then there was only a brief moment of pain and fire before Elmer lay on the ground beside the stream bed. The Man, who after speaking a few hurried prayers was rushing forward toward the orc, halted in his tracks. Forgetting the battle and his own safety entirely, he threw his walking stick to the ground and rushed to Elmer's side, kneeling before him.

As the darkness closed in he saw The Man bent over him and heard the Bad Orc speak a few words before vanishing into the darkness with his companions. As Elmer was carried away by The Man he did not dream any dreams at all. For Elmer was dead.

[Montleberry]

When Elmer awoke he had no memory of being carried to this peaceful place. He had no memory of druids, rangers, priests and wizards gathering on his behalf. He was unaware of the careful discussion and consideration on the merits of asking Chauntea to return to life a dog.

He did not know that after the thoughtful deliberation he was deemed special, bonded to Edmund in the service of The Great Mother, and worthy at least of the attempt.

All he was aware of was now. Of being surrounded by people he liked, being pet and given treats The Man usually never allowed him. His simple doggish way left his last memory of pain and fire far away, beyond some additional conditioned dislike of orcs and fear of their scent.

He was simply happy to be with The Man as he always was while he licked his wet, salty face.

Lacking any vanity the new scar on his muzzle, burned in by some unholy fire, did not concern him a bit.

He had no memories of the time between the darkness closing in and waking with The Man and his friends as his side, but that night the dreams of racing joyously through endless fields under the watchful eye of the The Great Kind Old Lady had a recent, and familiar feel.