Book One: Dog Borne

Chapter Three - The Least I Could Do

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Again the mornings seemed repeated. Everyday Goosekit would wake up and stretch, each day awakening to a new scenery. He was much too far away from camp to find it alone, so he had to keep making makeshift dens.
Every now and then he'd see the coyote, and every time it would greet him with "heart".

One day he finally decided to teach it cat language. It appeared one night at dusk, the waning moon poking up over the horizon, the twilight bringing cool breezes through the trees. The coyote approached him casually, dropping a mouse at his paws.

"Thanks," he said, although knowing it wouldnt really understand. He looked at it a while before bending down to feast on the mouse.
"I think it's time I taught you my language," he said. The coyote stopped eating and gave him a blank look. It barked "heart" again and he nodded. "Yea, 'heart'. I say that!"

The coyote wagged its tail and repeated it over and over. Finally Goosekit got the coyote's attention and gestured to himself. "Goosekit," he mewed. The coyote looked confused and gave with a frustrated groan.
"Goosekit, Goosekit," he repeated, gesturing to himself again.

The coyote barked "heart" once more before giving a fury of yips, trying match it with Goosekit's mew.
Finally it said "Goose" and wagged its tail. Goosekit thought it good enough and licked the coyote's nose.

Later that night it took him back to its old nest. Surprisingly it was walking the same way Goosekit traveled, which meant he'd been walking in circles the entire time. When they arrived it set him down and curled up beside him.
Like the first night with the coyote, he got situated comfortably in its tail and tried to fall asleep.

Only this time, the thin creature was repeating "Goose" over and over.
"Goosekit," he corrected, but smiled at its commitment to learn.

One point in the night he awoke to shuffling as the coyote slipped him off its tail. "Goosekit," it whispered, and he looked up. It whispered something else but he didn't know what.
It looked annoyed, then gestured to the west. Then it stared at him as if telling him to stay put.

It trotted off warily, leaving the kit in the nest, but if Goosekit learned anything in his time, it was that new adventure awaited if you didn't listen - which was a terrible moral but he decided it was an exciting one to live by.

He clambered over the roots and followed the coyote, keeping his head low like its and swinging his tail. He didn't mind this, however. He couldn't help acting like a coyote after all this time.
It stopped in its tracks abruptly, glaring down a larger, dark coyote, which Goosekit recognized. It growled, flicking its tail, motioning for another to come out. It was another larger coyote with bright, honey-like fur.

These were the other coyotes at the camp, Goosekit realized with a shiver. The one protecting him was the only one he'd trust.

Suddenly it pounced, landing on the darker dog. They fought in a fury while the honey-colored one ran at him. It snapped its jaws at him but he slid away barely, gasping. His heart raced wildly. Why were they fighting?

The coyote chased him, reaching for his scruff. It grabbed him finally, tanking him into the air. He flipped over and landed uncomfortably on it's snout.

It barked and danced around to get him off but he climbed on, gripping its gums and muzzle. He hissed and rapidly attacked its nose. His backside was covering its vision and he laughed.

"Dogs always were dumb," he cried, but he spoke too soon. The coyote whacked his snout into a tree, squishing Goosekit to the trunk. He groaned and loosened his grip, falling off.

He watched in horror as the darker coyote was winning to the first one. He was weak, but a jolt of rage powered through his fluffy body.
His fur stood on end, and when the tawny coyote went for him again, he reared up and knocked it back with a few strong swipes to the eyes. It squeaked and fell sideways, trickles of blood following. It was probably blind now but it kept trashing randomly, trying to swipe at Goosekit.

Instead the wounded coyote wriggled away, accidentally ramming right into the dark coyote. They both fell and Goosekit's coyote jumped out of the way. She was bleeding but she looked confident, and seemed to have done a number to the opposing dog's legs.

She grabbed his scruff and sprinted away quickly, faster than he'd ever seen her run. The adrenaline that once helped him ceased when he saw she was alright, despite the nasty wounds on her side that would definitely scar.

Half the night passed. At moonhigh they reached the edge of the forest. The rest of the land was a large field, dotted with many random hills and gorses. Somewhere in the distance was a large wall of wood, then a long line of Two-leg dens.

Two-leg place? He wondered. Had they traveled all the way around the forest? Surely not. But he couldn't help thinking his clan was at the other side.

The coyote didn't stop running. It kept going until reaching a large pond in the middle of a few hills. A cluster of lotus flowers filled the pond, spreading everywhere.
Frogs and fish darted around at the sight of the approaching creatures. The coyote set Goosekit down and sat at the edge of the pond, glancing backward before turning and licking its wounds.

Goosekit took a while to situate his mind, then shook out his gray tabby fur and padded to the water. He crouched and lapped it up with his little tongue, occasionally glancing at the coyote.

"I'm sorry you are hurt," he tried. The coyote gave him an apologetic look, perhaps guilty of not being able to converse with him.
"Goosekit...Goosekit sorry." He tried again.
It stopped and looked at him again. Then it reached over and licked his head before going back to its seat.
"Sorry...Goosekit." It said softly.
"It's ok," he replied.

Miracles didn't happen to everyone, but maybe, it just might've happened to him.
This coyote might have taken him from his home, but it protected him, fed him, tried to speak his language... this had never happened before in the history of the Flower Clans. Not even when LavenderClan was still alive, he was sure.

He padded up and sat beside the coyote. They looked into the water a while before it started to lick its wounds again. Goosekit gave a sigh that sent ripples across the water, frightening tadpoles and sending lotuses drifting away.
He picked up a small lotus from the water, a pinkish one that was tinged with purple around the leaves. He set it in front of the coyote.

"It's the least I could do," he replied to her confused look. Then he curled up beside her again, hoping this would be enough of a thank-you to this miraculous creature.

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