Syzek

1 - Syzek: Shipment

Part One: Upon a Snowdrift

The floor swayed side to side, sliding seamlessly as an earthquake in slow motion. The room was dark, pitch black and silent of color. As for sounds, however, plenty was offered, or rather forced. For hours, the wind hummed aggressively outside while the rough sea churned about.

I missed Newport already. Not because life there was perfect, or because it even had much I wanted in my life in the first place. I had the idea of hitching a ride on one of the small cargo ships that docked outside town sitting in the back of my mind for months now, but I always felt that the measly benefits of staying in Newport far outweighed the risk that I would travel to someplace much worse.

My situation was not impressive to begin with, as I was a stray husky that lived in Newport's many alleyways, stealing from various meat shops that dotted the town. Of course, there were some I liked and others I went to great lengths to avoid.

Overall a relatively mundane lifestyle for a dog, besides the scenery.

While Newport barely provided my needs to survive, the bay was beautiful, and the town was well organized. Even for me, navigating the town was simple and straightforward, and while doing so, I could smell the fish that swam by the shore every morning and be comforted by the sounds of crashing waves under full moon. I could observe the tide gradually pull the waves up and down the beach, and listen to the calls of the birds that populated the bay area.

Initially, I thought I would be happy with that. I had almost everything I needed in Newport. Almost.

Back then, I would also watch other dogs and their owners stroll through town together, perfectly content with each other's company. Visually, though, it looked a lot more like the dogs were dragging their pet human along for a walk. Despite being curious about the workings of the relationship, I knew exactly what it meant to be a pet, to have all of my motivations and ambitions be smothered by human control. Even then, to the sound of crashing and receding waves, I still thought about what it would be like to have a human take care of me again, as opposed to my solitary life in Newport. Unfortunately, every time I think about finding a new owner, my mind races to my experience at my last "home" when I was just a puppy.

Before moving into Newport I lived in a decently large facility in Portland, run by a breeder, as other humans called him. All I could remember from then were the cages. Each of the hundreds of dogs kept at that place had to live in a cramped cage, incomplete with a strict rationing of food that provided only the bare minimum for survival.

The people there called me Syzek. I had no idea what it meant or its true purpose, but I took it for granted. I know myself as Syzek.

As were most of the other dogs, I was fed up with the cramped lifestyle at that facility, and sought to find a way to escape. I knew each of the dogs had an opportunity to go outside for a few minutes a day, along with several others at the same time, for efficiency, they said. We were held by thick leather leashes to prevent us from running off, in their theory at least.

So on one of the colder mornings, I decided to try and make a break for it. The moment I stepped outside, I got to work chewing through the leash that bound me to that damned facility. By the time anyone noticed, I was already long gone, running as fast as I could due West. I reached Newport one night later, where I would stay for a year or so, half of which involved contemplating my possible decision to leave by sea.

Eventually, I mustered up just enough courage to sneak into one of the cargo boxes set to leave Newport by ship.

The box was wooden, made up of rough, unpolished planks that scratched at my fur every time the ship shook. It smelled suspiciously like fish and seaweed; while annoying, it was not overbearing either. The inside was dark, receiving no light save for the holes that dotted the edges and corners, allowing me to breathe and sometimes peek outside. Unfortunately, that also meant the freezing winter wind could sneak inside as well, chilling my skin while I tried to preserve my warmth by curling up at the bottom of the box. The wind whistled sharply as it blew through the cargo of the ship, sometimes even sounding like a form of rudimentary music. However, the waves that broke on the sides of the boat were not nearly as melodic. Any sign of a smooth listening to the wind was inevitably shattered by the sound of breaking waters, making the process of getting sleep irritating to say the least.

I eventually fell asleep anyhow, well after the holes stopped shining sunlight, signaling nightfall.

When I came to, the swaying had long stopped, the wind far quieter and the waves completely absent. Curious, I peeked through one of the holes on the vertical edges.

The bleak, melancholy colors of the transport ship were replaced by a vast, brilliant white that sparkled in the sunlight. The smell of fish and seaweed was now being contested by the aroma of the evergreens that populated the area.

With the box now illuminated by the shine of sunlight and the sparkle of snow outside, I could finally observe my surroundings.

Lo and behold, I had snuck into a fish shipment.

More importantly, though, I noticed that two of the joints on one of the inside edges were now broken. I did not recall those damages being there when I initially snuck into the box, which meant that they were likely broken intentionally from the outside. That also meant that there was a possibility that I could now leave. With my two front paws I gave both sides of the box adjacent to the broken edge a hefty push.

Sure enough, the side on the left creaked open slightly.

Using my hind legs to push against the back side of the box, I put both of my front paws on that side and heaved. Gradually, the opening grew larger and larger, until finally, I could fit my head and body through.

The sudden burst of cold air shot down my spine, as I tried to watch my new surroundings.

It was snowing softly, the gentle winds blowing the snowflakes up and down, making them seem weightless as they drifted through the air. The ground and trees were covered with snow, the mountains in the distance brightly outlined the same. The place itself looked alive in some way, like the smooth movements of the falling snow and swaying cone trees were rehearsed for years. The scenery alone provided Newport with competition.

I smelled the evergreens, as well as... burnt meat? Looking around, there was indeed a town a good mile or two away along the frozen beaches.

I took one last glance at the shoreline near me, remembering the temperate and beautiful town of Newport. I began to regret sneaking aboard the transport ship, but then realized I had not eaten in two days. I watched the sea rescind once more before taking off toward town in desperate hopes of finding a meal.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be long before I realized that the temperature was far lower than I could handle. My fur was shorter than most other huskies my age, and so the shock from suddenly entering a below-freezing environment was too much for me.

I shivered a few more steps and passed out in the snow, unable to bear the cold any longer. The last thing I could remember seeing was a banner that read "1923 Sled Dog Championship Today."