PA 3.5: End of a Tail

Chapter XVI Part II

The cat narrowed their eyes at the dog in recognition, but little else was portrayed through their stoic features.

"How- How'd you get over here so fast?" Cujo demanded, no longer leaning as he was taken aback by the cat's presence.

"I... teleported here," they said casually.

"You what?"

"Teleported," they looked at the gravelly dirt, then raised their gaze to the canopy. "I can just... do it. Magic, you know?"

Cujo grumbled, looking to the floor as he mumbled under his breath. "Fang, that's so cool."

"What?" Mitt asked, smirk contrasting with their mood just seconds ago.

Cujo exhaled, "N-Nothing."

Mitt glanced at him with a knowing grin and narrowed eyes, then looked away, their expression growing as neutrally dreary as it was before.

"So... any reason why you're listening in on our talk?" he said with a shy grin, giving Mitt a friendly look.

"Yeah. I needed to know what you were up to- if you were going to let her out, then I would've needed to do something about that." They shook their head lightly, "This makes it just, a whole lot easier."

Cujo took a step away from Mitt. "... Makes what easier?"

Mitt flopped a paw out, barely giving a shrug as they began to explain, "Well, I won't have to treat you like a prisoner, but you can also help me out with a decision that's been giving me trouble; do you think we should bring them over to the house?"

"Is... Is that Mitt?!" Dell stammered out. Considering how far away the cat was, it's likely she could only hear Cujo's side of the conversation.

The fluffy eared golden turned to the door. "Yeah, but please don't worry, they're not going to hurt you, and I won't let them."

The retriever's gaze narrowed as Dell went silent. Alarm struck his face as he leaned closer into the door, pressing a large floppy ear against it, only to hear Dell's breathless wheezing from the other side.

"Dell, are you alright?" he demanded, his voice coated in disbelief.

Mitt paused their query, cocking a thin eyebrow at the sudden urgency the floppy-eared retriever displayed. A small amount of shock crossed their features as they suddenly realized what was happening, and what they had forgotten to do before leaving the dog to her devices.

"Dell, you need to tell me right now if you can't breathe!" he demanded, pounding a fist against the door to hopefully catch her attention.

After a resounding bang came from the other side, he decided that if she was having an asthma attack, she probably wouldn't be able to tell him. 

"Right. Stupid of me to ask," he said with panic in his voice, springing away from the doorway and gesturing towards Mitt, "Bring the barrier down; Dell's suffocating!"

Much to his surprise, Mitt didn't react very strongly, instead narrowing their eyes in apprehension. "I'm not so sure..." They frowned, looking to the dirt and contemplating for a moment longer, then moving away from the tree they were leaning on. Mitt drew Whisk's wand, focusing on a few gestures towards the door, and speaking to the dog while they did so, "Here, I'm opening it. Be careful." 

With a flick of their wand, Mitt swung open the door to the left of Cujo. The metal banged against the stonework loudly, then there was silence as the chalk stopped glowing, and the retriever took in the darkness before him.

"Dell?" Cujo called out as he began to tepidly walk down the staircase. With what little light came of the sun's dim influence, he could see that the room was vacant. The retriever was immediately alarmed at the sight, rushing down the stairs and catching the barest hint of movement out of the corner of his vision.

He turned his head to face whatever was lurking in the corner, only to see that behind a wooden chair was the cowering face of Dell. The look of terror was hard to discern in the dark, but still recognizable all the same. It was clear her intention was to hit someone on the head with the furnishing, and Cujo had hardly the time to be shocked before he was disappointed.

"D-Dell?! What in Dog's name are you doing?" he demanded, hissing past his teeth so Mitt couldn't hear him.

Dell shook as she pursed her lips, trying to find the words, but they failed to come out. It became apparent she wasn't having an attack, and Cujo couldn't help but seethe at her trick.

Cujo looked out the door, letting his thoughts drift to the cat there, if only for a moment. "I won't let them hurt you, okay?" he said confidently, slowly raising a paw up towards the chair to try and calm her down.

Dell flinched, watching the extended arm as if it were a weapon, as she mouthed for the retriever to 'stop.'

Looking Dell in her eyes, Cujo paused before lowering his paw and bringing it to his face, hiding his exasperated shame. "I'm sorry, Dell... just, please put the chair down."

A light sigh interrupted the moment, and Cujo turned on his heel, just in time to see Mitt having crept up on him, looking particularly unhappy. They were digging a paw into their pants, then quickly drew out Dell's inhaler. "Here," they said, "give it to her." Mitt gently tossed the medicine towards Cujo, who somehow fumbled to catch it, instead letting it clack off of his paw with a particular lack of deftness. 

After it tumbled twice more through the air, Cujo grasped the inhaler with a relieved sigh, looking over to Dell with an embarrassed scowl, extending his paw. "Take it," he said.

Dousing her fear with shame, she placed the chair back down on the floor, dragging her eyes and mouth towards the ground. All she could do was sheepishly grab the inhaler, holding it between her paws and try to avoid eye contact with the dog in front of her.

Cujo noticed she had slipped the bindings Mitt placed on her earlier and shook his head. He spoke with righteous contempt, "Please don't pretend you're having an attack like that," he whispered.

"I- I'm sorry," she said, shaking. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted.

"I just don't understand why you think the cats are just here to hurt us, Dell. You're the only person convinced they're going to do something wrong. Why can't you just trust them like everyone else?" he muttered pleadingly.

As much as the reprimanding might have been deserved, Mitt interjected by striding down towards Cujo and grabbing his wrist firmly, an intense frown on their face. The athletic dog would've resisted, but didn't want to give the cat a reason to use their wand.